


My Mom & Sister Are Size-Queen Sluts!

by SlutWriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Worship, Breeding, Brother/Sister Incest, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Excessive Semen, F/M, Foursome - F/F/F/M, Gangbang, Harem, Horny Teenagers, Huge Breasts, Huge balls, Multi, Muscles, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/M, bimbo, huge penis, size comparison, size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlutWriter/pseuds/SlutWriter
Summary: Student-athlete Jon Herron has an amazing body, and it runs in the family. Unfortunately for him, that family is anything but normal. His mother and sister are constantly on the prowl for the biggest dicks they can find... and they're about to discover his secret.





	1. Jon's Big Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This work is also available as a comic adaptation.

Jon Herron never met his father. He knew that Jack Herron had been an Alaskan crab fisherman who put a lot of money in the bank before a getting his leg tangled in a rigging line and falling overboard one icy, frozen evening in the Bering Sea. His body had not been recovered. This story he’d gotten from his mother, Jane, when he was eight years old. Now a few weeks shy of his seventeenth birthday, Jon wasn’t so sure it was true.   
  
He was starting to suspect that, in fact, his mother had accidentally killed his father with sex.  
  
It’s common for teenagers to curse their place in life, and there’s not a 16-year-old guy in the world who hasn’t at one time or another rolled his eyes and said “my family is crazy”. Jon was no exception, though he considered that he had more cause to make that claim than most. For proof, one only needed to listen to the sounds drifting down through the ventilation ducts and into the brick-walled basement lounge that he’d made his sanctuary. These ducts, meant to deliver central air conditioning to each corner of the three-floor Herron home, instead delivered every detail of his mother’s activities on a sort of broadcast, whether he wanted them or not.   
  
“Fuck me!” came the wanton female voice from the vent, accompanied by the wet slap of flesh on flesh. “Pound my pussy with that big dick!” Jon, who was reclining on a couch and watching a wall-mounted flatscreen while browsing the internet on his laptop, fetched a deep sigh. The voice he could readily identify as his mother, and as for the source of the pelvic slapping that sounded like a snare drum, who the fuck knew? It could have been anyone from the pool boy to the mayor. Jane Herron was, Jon had come to realize, a regular fuck machine and the biggest MILF slut in town. “MILF” was the term his peers used - Jon found himself unable to discuss his mother with blushing deeply and facepalming - and they used it so often that Jon found himself wishing the movie  _American Pie_  had never been released.  
  
“God, you have a big fucking  _donkey dick_ ,” his mother seethed, the vent giving the play-by-play an echoing, reverb quality. By the urgency and loudness, Jon knew what room the sound was coming from - the home gymnasium on the main floor. “Pound me all the way to the back of my womb!”   
  
Rubbing his brow with even greater weariness, Jon clicked his laptop closed and leaned over to get an energy drink from his mini-fridge. The basement was comfortable for him, it had internet access, his computer, a television, a weight bench and an assortment of free weights, as well as direct access to the backyard via a door and a procession of cement steps. What had previously been a simple guest room adjacent to the laundry area, the industrious young man had turned into a haven by adding shelving, posters and decorations for the walls, even a few new lights. The mini-fridge was a concession to his fear of wandering up to the main floor, a trek which often found him discovering either his mother or sister (or both) in the midst of a mortifying bout of spirited sexual congress.  
  
“Fuck me with that fuckin’ ten inch cock! Nnngh fuck! I’m cumming! Dump your big load in my pussy!” came the next cry, and then the full-throated moans of a man and a woman experiencing sordid climaxes.  
  
“Jeez, mom,” Jon muttered, cracking his energy drink can and taking a sip, before shaking his head. The home gymnasium, with it’s rubber flooring, would doubtless need a good hosing-down in the aftermath of whatever sexual encounter was occurring, a cleanup he’d been forced to undertake himself on occasion. In fact, his mother and sister seemed to delight in leaving evidence of their ‘adventures’ for him to discover. Thick cumstains, lube-splattered equipment, used condoms draped over the handlebars of the stationary bike… or sometimes the literal unconscious bodies of their conquests, comatose, their invariably large dicks flaccid and flopped over one inert leg. It was for this reason that he didn’t use the gymnasium in the house. He kept kettlebells and free weights in the basement, did pull-ups using the wooden rafters on the low ceiling, crunched on the floor, and jogged at night for cardio.  
  
If there was one thing that Jon had in common with his mother, it was physical fitness, which the woman had drummed into him from a young age.  _If you’re going to be popular, Jonny_ , she’d said,  _you’ve got to take care of your body._ So while his fellow students in the first grade were reading picture books about how beauty is only skin deep and looks didn’t matter, Jon was hustled by his mother into aesthetics and athletics. _You’re going to want a tight butt if you’re going to get attention from girls_ , she had further told him. She’d signed him up for soccer, basketball, swimming, anything where he had to run and jump for hours at a time. Before he was old enough to know what a six-pack of beer was, she’d lectured him about six-pack abs.   
  
This upbringing resulted in a 16-year-old boy who was at the apex of physical form. Brown haired and blue eyed, Jon was a solid 6’3” and 185 pounds, with muscular definition that was a perfect medium between swimmer’s otter-like svelteness and a bodybuilder’s bulk. His wide shoulders formed an enticing triangle shape with his waist, and the area between was a landscape upon which delts, pecs and abs seemed to have been chiseled by Renaissance masters. From the front his torso rippled with xylophonic definition, from the back, it was a showcase of explosive lats and traps. This was all the product of a frenetic routine that wasn’t precisely bodybuilding; Jon simply kept a workmanlike devotion to his 250 pull-ups and 500 crunches each day, plus a five mile run, curls, squats, presses, a swim if the circumstances permitted. He’d been doing it so long, he couldn’t imagine  _not_  doing it. Putting his body through its paces was second nature to him, though some of it could only be done in seclusion or at night.  
  
The reason for this last detail was also the reason for Jon’s shyness, a personality trait belied by his hunky good looks and physique. Though he shouldn’t have been reluctant to show off by any means, having the body of a statue of Adam before the fall of man, he would only allow himself to run or swim under cover of dark, or with nobody else present. What should have been a feast for any prying female eyes - Jon’s really did have the perfect mixture of an athlete's size and a boy’s supple athleticism, without the grotesque vascularity of Mr. Olympia - was thus rendered a clandestine act. Jon saw himself as something of a freak, and not because his superior genetics seemed to translate every chicken breast he wolfed down into another band of Adonian muscle.  
  
No, high school student Jon Herron considered himself a freak because at 16 years of age, his penis was 14 inches long flaccid and 17 inches long when erect.   
  
  
All the women who eyed him hungrily despite his tender years, wondering what it would be like to try to tame his beastly body in the sack (and he’d be propositioned by quite a number of gay men as well, all of whom he politely declined), had no idea the extent to which the young man truly  _was_  an avatar of sexual prowess. Jon’s cock, uniformly thick as a woman’s arm and hanging almost to his knee, was a constant source of both consternation and forbidden urges. It was his deepest secret.   
  
In the organized sports in which he participated, he volunteered to put away equipment and help with groundskeeping after practice, showering only once the other boys had already left. At other times in the locker room, he made sure to keep a towel around his waist. The boys found this peculiar, of course, and would have given Jon no end of grief for it, but the fact was, he was the best football, basketball and soccer player in the county, a natural athlete with the raw power and explosiveness of an NCAA blue chip recruit. By a combination of preparation and luck, nobody, student-athlete or prospective girlfriend, had the slightest inkling that he had a massive horse cock and a pair of sloshing, smooth-skinned balls slapping between his taut thighs.  
  
Of course, the secret had been hardest to keep from his immediate family. Not only was his cock blessed with tremendous size, but amazing stamina. Jerking off (that staple activity of teenage boys) could be as much as a two hour affair, and at such times Jon kept the door to his basement sanctuary (a door which he had installed himself) shut against all prying eyes, his mother and sister being excessively nosy as well as excessively slutty.  
  
In that moment, listening to his mother moan while getting fucked hard by what Jon assumed was one man but could have been as many as a dozen for all he knew, the familiar twinges were starting to build up in his loins, galvanizing slowly the flesh that up until then had laid dormant against his thigh. Dressed in loose-fitting sweats and a sleeveless Under Armour top that clung to every muscle, the boy spared a quick glance to make sure the door was shut before reopening his laptop and muting the sound of his television. It was a dance he’d performed many times before, the masturbating teenage athlete in full plumage, one hand navigating to a porn website while the other snaked into his waistband. His browser history was telling.  
  
BIG-ASSED MILF SLUT TAKES HUGE COCK  
BLONDE PAWG ANAL CREAMPIE  
TABOO STEPMOM GETS PLOWED BY STUD SON  
CUM ON ASS COMPILATION  
HUGE TITS GET PLASTERED  
  
The autocomplete made it to find suitable viewing material with his left hand, while his right was busy hauling his prodigious cock into the open air, like a fleshy animal lifting its long-necked head from a watering hole on the African veldt. His shaft flopped down between his legs and then over the front edge of the couch, hanging partway down to the floor, and then he went back for his balls, squeezing them past the corded waistband of his sweats and letting them flop down on top before lowering the sweatpants themselves down past his knees. Though not old enough to drink and barely old enough to drive, he had a ballsack like two papayas stored in a hammock of glistening, flesh-colored latex. Jon actually let out a small, relieved grunt at letting his nuts fall to the couch between his thighs, where they spread out and pooled under their own weight, rolling against the inside of his legs, forming a sort of cushion for his cockshaft before it dropped off the edge.   
  
His balls were just as impressive as the rest of his penis, and capable of surpassing the norm just as prodigiously. Jerking off wasn’t just a matter of finding the time to coax his ramrod to full mast and subsequent orgasm, there was considerable effort needed to clean up the mess. At age 12 (8 inches) he’d used Kleenex to catch his loads, at age 14 (13 inches) he’d graduated to soaking washcloths and towels, which he would then secretly launder. Now, at 16, those methods were no longer sufficient to contain the volume of his emissions. Instead, Jon kept a bucket by the door that led to his back yard’s ascending cement steps, and when it was time to blow, he would lean over it, shuddering and stifling his moans, while he shot rope after rope of cum into the receptacle. On an average day, he was able to fill the metal pail 3/4ths of the way to the top, his sperm piling onto itself with a gooey consistency that was like a yellow-white bowl of pudding. He knew it wasn’t normal that his balls could produce such thick, lumpy, splattery cum, and in such a huge amount, and so he took the same pains to hide the proof of his ejaculation as he did to hide his cock itself. In the last year, his cum had grown so clotted and thick that it clogged the drain of the wash basin by the washer-dryer, so he’d taken to emptying it into the wooded area adjacent to the backyard. When his mother and sister asked about the bucket, he told them he used it to wash lawn clippings off the steps after mowing.  
  
Today was feeling like it would be an especially big load. His balls were really churning, almost seeming swollen, and the muscled boy spread his knees apart to allow his sack more space between his legs as he turned on the first porn medley. The slap and smack of his mother getting fucked was still drifting down from upstairs - it was never just one round with that insatiable women - and provided the perfect audio backdrop to what promised to be a rousing compilation of money-shots spraying over blonde bubble butts. Gripping his cock with two hands, Jon began to massage himself to full hardness-  
  
A metallic clicking noise interrupted the beginnings of his bliss.  
  
“Hey little bro! You watchin’ porn?”  
  
As his 21-year-old sister Jen popped the bolt and opened the door separating the den from the basement stairs, Jon was barely able to pull his couch’s crocheted coverlet over the muscled expanse of his thighs, bunching it up around his lower half like an old woman keeping warm in her rocking chair. Jen was dressed as sluttily as ever, a deeply tanned bleach-blonde chewing a wad of pink bubblegum that she would regularly blow and messily pop on her face as if allusion to cumshots was her intent all along. Her eyelashes had been lengthened and sharpened to a fair-thee-well, her Botox-injected duck lips were gleaming with gloss, her teeth whitened to a gleam. A shimmering diamond stud shone on the side of her nose, with two more in her ears, her blue eyes surrounded by unsubtle lavender eyeshadow that seemed to scream “I’ll suck your dick!”. A flat-brimmed designer baseball cap, black and pink with the text on the crown reading “S.L.U.T.” gothic-fonted letters, was perched on her head.  
  
She bounced as she crossed the room toward Jon, which was natural for her; her body had been invested with too much genetic luck and surgical skill to do anything but bounce and jiggle with even the slightest movement. She was wearing no clothing but a skimpy pink bikini top and a pair of sheer leggings worn so low on the hips that the waistband cut across her pubis, showing hints of the puffiness of her sex. A pink thong was underneath, the T-back riding up above the leggings to accentuate her ass. Jon knew from constant,  _constant_ exposure that Jen also had a tramp stamp tattoo above her buttocks, a tribal pattern with the words “Size Queen” written in cursive.   
  
Of these various clothing elements, the bikini top was the closest to simply falling off, just due to the load the cups were required to carry. Jen Herron had a pair of simply _massive_  tits, each one too large for Jon to cup with both hands, and he wasn’t a small 16-year-old. As she came bounding into the room, they appeared to be slathered in whatever coconut oil or suntan grease she’d been using to lay out. Looking at them, Jon was reminded of an old-fashioned cash register, the drawer of which had just popped open. Jen’s huge boobs pressed outward from her fit body like two balloons, the strings of her bikini pulled taut and raised away from her skin by the tension. Turgid nipples like mini-sombreros pulled the skimpy fabric into unnatural shapes.   
  
This set of huge jugs complimented a body that, like her younger brother’s, was honed to a razor’s edge. The sheer leggings showed off every detail of her massive bubble butt, which she somehow maintained despite having thighs and calves that were corded with slender muscle. In the way her chest was a shelf in her front, her ass was a shelf in behind. Her arms were no less smooth and toned, and under normal circumstances, Jon supposed Jen would have found a great career as a fitness model or personal trainer. His older sister, though, was not interested in furthering her education or being gainfully employed. From his experience, she was interested in only three things.  
  
1\. Sucking.  
2\. Fucking.   
3\. Swallowing cum.  
  
How did he know these things? Well, it was all the bronzed and sculpted skank talked about. Her compact body was maybe 5’3” in the sporty Chuck Taylor-themed platform sneaks she always wore, and Jon was pretty sure that about 62 of those 63 inches had had a big dick jammed into them at one point or another.   
  
She cackled mischievously as she closed in on him, knowing from his red face that she’d caught him in some sort of illicit act.  
  
“You were, weren’t you!” she accused, pointing with one long-nailed finger. Her manicure was as subtle as the rest of her, and each fingernail seemed to have more glitter and detailing than an Elvis Presley concern-worn jumpsuit. “You were jerkin’ off!”  
  
Before John could object, his sister stepped over his thigh, swung her ass right in his face, and then sat down, directly on his lap, her round buttocks settling onto either side of his cockshaft. Leaning back into his chest, the scent of her perfume heavy in her brother’s nose, she giggled airheadedly and taunted him while snapping her bubble gum. “You going to bust a nut watching all those big, thick money shots?” She blew up a huge, pink bubble and then let it explode on her own face, before suggestively sucking the remnants back into her mouth.   
  
Jon made a strangled noise. “I’m not watching porn,” he objected. He had managed to close his porn tab and over to Wikipedia’s front page. “I’m studying for a sociology project.” It was all he could do to bite his lip and stifle the pot-about-to-boil whistle of breath slowly escaping from his throat. Five years his senior, Jen had always delighted in teasing him, from ‘mistakenly’ revealing her panties (or lack thereof) to lewd double-entendres, getting dressed or undressed in front of him, and more. Of these tactics, sitting on his lap and grinding her bubble-butt into his crotch was one of her favorites. She was  _concerned about his social life_ , she sometimes told him, so she wanted to give him the  _girlfriend experience_. Only the coverlet and Jon’s size prevented her from detecting the monster stirring beneath her - she was rubbing her butt where a normal man’s erection might have been poking jauntily upward against his pelvis, and had no idea that the real action was happening further forward, between her brother’s muscled thighs.  
  
“Homework? Jon, you’re such a dork!” she accused, leaning her back against his chest and rubbing up and down, feeling every detail of pectoral definition. Her head folded into the crook of Jon’s neck and she looked up at him, blowing another bubble that exploded on her face suggestively. “I came to get some information from you.”  
  
Jon rolled his eyes.  _Here it comes._    
  
“You know Derek, from the football team?” she asked, chewing and smacking.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Jen giggled mischievously. “Well, you see him in the locker room, right? Is the rumor true?”  
  
“What rumor?”   
  
Jen slid her hand to the inside of Jon’s thigh playfully. “You know, little bro! That he’s got a big fucking ten inch co- waaaaah!”  
Her question, which Jon had seen coming a mile away, was interrupted as he used his muscled arms to grip Jen, lift her, and place her away from his lap before her hands could explore any further. He dumped her unceremoniously beside him on the couch, an easy task for a boy as powerful as he was.  
  
“What’d you do that for?” she whined, leaning one side against the backrest. “I was just tryin’ to give you a little bonus. You don’t get out enough, little bro - with a body like that you should have a new girlfriend every week.” She sighed and adjusted the brim of her cap before looking at him with playful consternation, leaning forward with a lowered voice. “You don’t have a problem with your cock or anything like that, do you?”  
  
Jon made a clicking noise in his mouth. “Jen, just get out of here, I’m trying to work.”  
  
“I’m worried about you,” she continued, ignoring him.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Mom’s worried, too.”  
  
Jon rolled his eyes again, but then became transfixed on his sister, who continued to take an aggressive posture, leaning toward him on the couch so leeringly that she had to get on all fours to do so. “She and I were talking,” she cooed, biting her bottom lip slightly, “She thought maybe we could help get you out of your shell.”  
  
Jon gulped. Jen’s boobs were looming enormous, hanging nearly all the way to the couch cushions from her near-horizontal position as she crawled over to him in a cat’s sexual prowl. “By doing what?”  
  
Jen leaned forward and placed her mouth against his ear, her plump lips brushed his earlobe, the smell of her perfumed hair and neck was thick in his nose. When she whispered, it was with a lewd wantonness that had no shame. “How about I  _suck the cum out of your fucking dick_?”  
  
Jon choked and drew his head away like his ear had been pressed against a stove burner. “Jesus Christ, Jen!” he cried. “What the fuck?!” His face was blushing deep, and the twinges in his cock were beginning to get extremely alarming. The process of hardening was pretty far along now, soon his endowment would be tenting in a way he couldn’t hide. The sound of his sister’s voice, the way she’d seemed totally hungry to blow him, was enough to make his balls churn and his fat urethra twitch. The thick piss-pipe swelled up even further from his shaft as it began to fill with seed, spurred to arousal by his Jen’s unabashed sluttiness.  
  
Jen only laughed at his scandalized alarm. “Oh, don’t be such a prude!” she admonished, bouncing on the couch next to her brother and sending her cannonball tits into a bout of rhythmic bikini gymnastics, bouncing against each other, threatening to pull free of her minimum-coverage bra cups. “Everyone in town knows you’ve got a killer bod, little bro. All my girlfriends are super-jealous that I get to live with you and see your tight ass when you step out of the shower.”  
  
_All your girlfriends are huge skanks just like you_ , Jon thought to himself, fetching another sigh.  _All the guys on the football team talk about is what a bunch of cock-sucking whores you all are. Every practice I have to hear ten jokes about how you and your slut friends have sucked every one of their dicks. But don’t worry, Jen. You’ll be glad to know that they rate your throat as the best. You’re still the queen skank._  
  
“But I can’t tell ‘em the juicy details because you won’t let me see your dick!” Jen continued, moving another hand to his thigh, only to have Jon gently catch her wrist. Her eyes narrowed a little. “You don’t have like… a third testicle or anything, do you?”  
  
“Jen, please get out.”  
  
“Because if it’s just that your cock is tiny, I’m sure there are pills you can take-”  
  
“Get out!”  
  
“Geez, FINE!” Jen snarked, smacking her bubble-gum. “I’m just trying to hook you up, little bro, but you’re really on the rag today.” Rising with a huff, her buttocks clapping together inside her skin-tight leggings, she trotted back toward the door, swaying her hips, teasing Jon as much as possible with her round, thick ass on the way out. The way it wobbled, like two basketballs on top of her tight and toned thighs, sent another gout of lumpy semen up Jon’s shaft. It was all he could do to stop himself from dripping cum all over the floor. The boy held his breath until she was through the door and he heard the bolt click, then exhaled.   
  
“Oh, thank Christ,” he said. During Jen’s intrusion, Jon’s monster cock had become an iron bar underneath the coverlet, extending horizontally out and almost touching his laptop screen when he finally set it free again to bob in the open air. His fat nuts churned on the couch cushion, throbbing, one could almost feel the deposits of heavy semen being produced. He had to jerk off, and fast! Pausing to pull his Under Armour vest off over his head (his sister’s visit having made him feel overheated and restrained), he fumbled one hand out toward the keyboard, brought his favorite porn links up again and pressed “Play” on a video that promised a bunch of fit blonde butts getting huge loads busted on them. So eager was he for release, he didn’t notice that the sounds of fucking had stopped drifting from ventilation ducts.  
  
As the 16-year-old stud leaned back on the couch, thighs spread, bare-chested with his sweats and boxer-briefs around his ankles, one could see every detail of the surpassingly chiseled body that had made him a quasi-celebrity in his own hometown. Long, muscled arms with as much grace as size reached out to grip his shaft with two hands, jerking it up and down like a zookeeper massaging a snake, and below that, his abdominals were striations upon striations, a landscape of perfect skin stretched over muscle that was equal parts powerful and supple. His tan (unlike that of his sister) was not too overstated, his complexion without so much as one ingrown hair or hint of acne. Hip flexors like steel cables stood out on his tapered thighs; these rippling expanses of flesh hinted at explosive athleticism on the field or in the bedroom, and yet all Jon’s extremities seemed to spring forth from a tight waist and core. His low percentage of body fat made it plain to see how he was put together, the conglomeration of sinews and tendons and powerful muscles carrying the streamlined power of a fine sports car, and to look under his hood, it was clear the 16-year-old stud had horsepower to spare... some of which he was working toward unleashing with a hard-earned climax.  
  
A pearl of pudding-thick cum began to gather in Jon’s piss slit, which like the rest of his cock was amazingly large, the size of a dime or even nickel. He knew from experience that even his pre-cum was too thick to drip much, it normally took an hour to work it’s way up his bulging piss-pipe and be ready for discharge. The process had been expedited by his sister’s sluttiness this time, but he wasn’t there yet. His half-lidded eyes focused on his laptop screen as he continued to stroke, milking more cum to the end of his dick where it coruscated with moist, pearlescent reflections in lights cast by the overheads. The room began to smell of semen just from this small exposure to air; there was nothing Jon could do about this except get the job done and then spray some Febreeze. Being thick and copious, his semen also carried the brutal scent of alpha-male sperm in abundance. Twenty more minutes, he estimated. Fifteen, if he hurried. God, the sight of his sister’s big ass in those leggings and that thong, her filthy mouth against his ear, asking to suck the thick cum out of his balls…  
  
“I fucking KNEW IT!” came the cry from across the room, and Jon’s heart immediately leapt into his throat. In his eagerness to finish his business, he’d been careless. He’d heard the clip-clop of Jen ascending the stairs, but it was clear the sneaky slut had crept back down, and she wasn’t alone, bursting into the room with his mother in tow. Jon was left totally exposed, his giant, fully-erect cock in both hands, a teenage boy caught red-handed confronted by his mother and older sister with his sweatpants around his ankles, watching porn. There was a tiny moment of silence as everyone present seemed too astounded to say or do anything… and in that moment, the thick bubble of Jon’s cum that had been building in his pisshole dripped from his cockhead in a blob, plopping onto the front edge of his laptop.  
  
*SPLAT*  
  
The dollop of yellow-white semen was so thick, it kept a gooey wad shape even after landing.  
  
“Jon!” his mother gasped, hands flying to her tanned and high-cheekboned face. “I can’t believe this! You have a fucking huge cock!”  
  
Jane Herron had always been a master of the obvious, and this particular discovery was certainly in her area of expertise. If anyone on earth knew about the size of cocks and how relatively large one needed to be to be considered ‘huge’, it was Jon’s 39-year-old mother. What daughter Jen played at - the ludicrous proportions, the body fat in all the right places - mommy Jane did for real, and all the fucking way. She was wearing a midriff-bearing T-shirt inscribed with the motto “WORK OUT, EAT, FUCK, REPEAT” and as far as Jon or anyone knew, that was literally all the bombastic MILF did all day. The shirt was a grey designer V-neck, and tight enough to leave basically nothing to the imagination. Breasts like bowling balls weighed down the front, a brick road of abs unfurled beneath the high waist and led all the way down to a pair of black Playboy-logo booty shorts that couldn’t even really be called shorts; they were low-waisted enough that her puffy pussy mound emerged above the band, and high-cut enough that 95% of her huge butt hung out the rear. Her buttocks really were something to see - the result of a thousand squats a day for over twenty years, plus the best surgeons money had been able to buy. As a result of genetics, care and investment, Jane Herron’s glutes were like twin suns rising from the bronze, ripped horizon of her body. Her narrow waist exploded into a badonkadonk that made Nicky Minaj look like Minnie Mouse, and then curved back onto the road of her thighs just as quickly.   
  
If college-aged Jen was a 10 on the Fuck Machine scale, Jane was an 11, even approaching the big four-oh. Her lips were bigger and more bee-stung, her eyelashes longer and less subtle, her muscles more defined, her nails flashier, her muscled calves and thighs looking even more like lacquered wood, her abdominals etched to an even greater degree. Even her pussy was puffier, with her absolutely sheer shorts showing off obvious camel-toe and the outline of a pronounced clit ring. Her face was more deeply lined and gaunt than that of her daughter, but far from making her look old, it leant a sort of seasoned elegance to her surgically-perfected features. Her hair, hazel with blonde highlights and obviously expensively styled, fell into the enticing depressions of her collarbones near the place where a graceful neck joined her torso. It framed the utterly astounded look on her face as she beheld her son’s amazing endowment. Utterly astounded… and hungry.  
  
“Mom, it’s not-”  
  
“See, Mom?” Jen interrupted, moving closer to the couch and kneeling down beside it, gesturing with her hand toward her brother’s huge erection. “I knew something was going on! Look at the size of Jon’s cock!” They crowded around him, barbie-doll features on sex-doll bodies, eyes glued to his throbbing erection, taking in every detail, every vein, every thick and virile inch, two starving skanks discovering a juicy, succulent and  _home-cooked_  steak for the first time. He’d released his hands from his cock in surprise, but his grip was quickly replaced with theirs, the curious touch of his mother and sister, trying to wrap around the shaft, barely-able to do it even using both hands at once. He looked in their eyes and saw no sense of embarrassment, no sense of decency in them - just a rapt attention to the fat, cum-stuffed dick between their two faces. As the two women stripper squatted like whores on either side of him, Jane on the left, Jen on the right, their breasts rubbed against his thighs with an unspeakable weight and heat.  
  
His mother licked her lips and made eye contact with him for the first time, her voice husky as she used two hands to slowly stroke his meat up and down. “Jon, if I’d known you were packing like this, I would have been sucking your fat dick every night!” The frank indecency of her statement (and the clear ring of truth in it), caused the 16-year-old stud to make a choking noise, his eyes as big as saucers, his face taking on the look of a camper about to be devoured by a bear. Jane leaned her face closer to his glans and gave the tip of his cock a lewd kiss, smiling like a queen anticipating good times with a prized servant. “Mmm, we’re going to make up for lost time!”  
  
“Me too, bro!” Jen interjected, one cheek pressing against his shaft while she talked to him. While his mother’s hands were near the head of his cock, Jen’s were wrapped around the base, stroking, kneading his balls, cooing at their heat and weight. “I want to see how much cum you have in these big sperm tanks!” She lowered her face, unfastened her bra as she did so, letting her huge breasts fall free onto his thigh, and began to kiss and suck at his scrotum, a pig snuffling at the trough formed by his splayed legs. It did not surprise Jon in the least to hear her talk about the possible volume of his ejaculation - he’d overheard his mother and sister have entire conversations about such things. Questions like “do you think the entire football team could cum enough to fill my water bottle?” had already been asked and answered in the Herron household.  Against his will, Jon had gradually learned which of his friends, acquaintances, teachers, and neighbors ejaculated too quickly, who had been eating more red meat or onions, who had pumped out “a big, thick load” on his mother’s face or his sister’s ass.  
  
What happened next seemed inevitable, despite how taboo the act was. Jon’s mother licked up to the crown of his penis and then slid her mouth over his fist-sized cockhead, making a choking noise as she allowed his girth to drill all the way to the back of her mouth, distending her puffy, painted lips around the shaft like a human vacuum cleaner as she made blistering eye contact. Meanwhile, Jen made sucking noises that were just as lewd as she serviced his balls, bathing them in spit. The younger woman seemed to be in heaven with a face full of nutsack, fingering herself with a free hand while issuing moans and rapt whimpers that made it clear she was totally enamored with the size and virility of her brother’s balls. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, Jen bobbed her head in and out of Jon’s crotch, fellating one of his big, round nuts, getting as much of the cum-loaded orb as she could into her wet mouth, her bleached hair washing over his thigh and her own titflesh.  
  
Jane’s eyes were watering as she bobbed up and down on the first third of her son’s dick, her plump lips forming a tight ring around the shaft, a bubble-gum pink industrial seal. Her service made a grotesquely wet sound, like a baby sucking on a pacifier, and bubbles of drool were beginning to trail down her chin and neck, creating a slick in the V-neck of her slutty T-shirt. When she pulled her mouth off with a nasty oral  _pop_ , her eyes half-lidded with arousal as she beheld the monster dong she’d been sucking, it was only to pull the shirt off over her head, allowing her massive tits to fall free. Moving into a sideways orientation beside Jon on the couch, she them up like two overloaded meat platters and wrapped them around his shaft for a sinful, incestuous titfuck - one resting on his abs, one on top of Jen’s head as she slurped balls. A normal cock would have immediately gotten lost in her valley of cleavage, but her son’s was large enough that 40% of it still emerged and pointed directly at her mouth.  
  
“Mmm… I want to suck that big pisshole,” she mewled, tossing her son a slutty wink and then fastening her pursed, puffy lips over his dick-slit. She kissed it deeply with a wet smacking sound, and at the same time used the insides of her wrists to wrap her pillowy breasts around the shaft, sliding them up and down, taking advantage of the sweat on their two bodies, Jon’s from nervousness, hers from a fuck-session that had ended only a few minutes before. Whatever cock she’d been sitting on in the main floor gymnasium had been totally forgotten. Her son’s big god-dick had become her entire preoccupation.  
  
As she sucked, Jane’s squeezing breasts milked some of the cum stuck in Jon’s urethra up toward the top of his dick, forcing it out the same way one might squeeze toothpaste from a tube. There was a splattery, liquid sound and her cheeks puffed out a little as a heavy deposit of cum slid into her mouth, piling on her tongue. Her eyes rolled back lewdly and her nostrils flared as she exhaled with pleasure. The twitch in Jon’s balls hadn’t gone unnoticed by his sister, who took a break from her scrotal sucking to examine their mother’s blissful face. “Did he shoot some cum in your mouth, mom?” she asked, looking both horny and jealous. Her leggings and thong, soaked with the juices from her plump twat, had been pulled off and discarded. “I want to taste it!”  
  
Jen surged forward and locked lips with her mother, engaging her in a deep, mouth-probing tongue kiss. The two women moaned as they swapped the thick, virile cum back and forth, and even after thirty seconds of mixing it with their abundant saliva, when their lips separated, thick stands of pudding-like goo connected their mouths. “It’s so fucking thick!” the older woman moaned, pausing swirl the sperm around in her mouth loudly. “Fuck, I feel like my throat is going to get pregnant!”  
  
“I know!” Jen agreed, and then extended her tongue, showing a thick deposit of cum pooled on it, making a glimmering island out of her tongue stud. “Eee? I ‘o ‘ick!” Drawing the lumpy mess into her mouth, Jen chewed it sluttily, having discarded her bubblegum in favor of a much favored and almost-as-sticky substance. Her neck bobbed as she tried to swallow, resulting in difficulty that made her cough and her eyes water. “Ugh, it’s stuck in my throat! There are so many thick chunks!” This wasn’t precisely a complaint, though - she sounded impressed. And with her mother still cum-gargling happily away, Jen seized the chance to lower her own face on Jon’s cockhead and swallow as much as she could.  
  
Jon’s hands clutched desperately at the couch cushions. He felt like he was being devoured by a pair of absurdly proportioned succubi, a fate that his friends had often suggested would be their preferred way to die. _No offense Jon_ , a track and field teammate had once confided after seeing his family in the stands at a meet,  _but if I had a choice between winning sectionals and having and your mother and sister sit on my face, well… we’d be some sectionals-losing motherfuckers._ Jon had only rolled his eyes (his signature move). The two of them had been at the high school track meet wearing next to nothing, their huge tits bouncing with every exaggerated cheer. Now, it seemed that the fabled mom-and-sister sandwich his male contemporaries had so often fantasized about was happening to him. Jen was already snorkeling down eight fat inches of his dong, making lewd choking noises, the tightness of her skilled throat a new sensation that was impossible to resist.  
  
Jon’s mother unwrapped her breasts from around his dick, giving Jen room to dive her mouth further down, and then braced two hands in the younger woman’s blonde hair, helping to force more cock down her throat. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “That’s it, choke on your brother’s fat cock!” she seethed, licking her lips, fingering herself where and when she could. She stepped out of her too-small booty shorts and discarded them, baring her pussy and its clit ring. Her thighs were utterly soaked, and more juice was leaking from her quim all the time. It was clear the two women of his family were getting turned on, wetter than they had ever been, just from the act of servicing Jon’s muscled body and huge cock. Her firm grip prevented Jen from raising her head, keeping half of Jon’s 17 inches jammed down his older sister’s throat, and the noises coming from her gagging, drooling mouth were growing increasingly sloppy.  
  
“You should use your hands, Jon,” his mother hissed, leaning in to press the words against his ear. “Use your hands and your hips. I want to see your body in action, every muscle, every inch of cock.” She licked inappropriately down his pectoral and teased his nipple, worshiping at the altar of his chiseled chest, before resuming her temptress’ diatribe through gritted teeth. “Come on, Jon! Show me what a stud my son is. Choke-fuck your sister with huge  _donkey dick_!” She used two hands to guide his palms into Jen’s hair, encouraging him to take a grip. Half of his cock was buried down the blonde’s spasming throat already, her eyes were wide and watering, drool was sliding from the seal her puffy lips made around his prong, soaking breasts that lay against his thigh like two searing water balloons. She was fingering herself, and her eyes seemed to beg her brother to bury his cock even deeper into her gullet.  
  
Jon felt his mood galvanized by his sister’s expectant look and persistent sense of sexual entitlement. How many times had she made his life more difficult with her sluttiness? How many friends and teammates had he lost because she’d fucked their brains out? How many awkward conversations had he been forced into, how many times had she teased him, paraded around half-naked, prodded him for information on student athletes to help satiate her need for dick? How many times had he been forced to clean up used condoms and, indeed, passed-out male bodies, after one of her marathon fuck sessions? If anyone deserved a dick down her throat to shut her up, it was his sister Jen.  
  
“Sis, you… you fucking skank!” he hissed, lost in the moment, and his powerful hands gripped her hair, pulling her face further down his cock, feeling the unspeakable tightness as inch after inch of his arm-thick cock slid into her wet, gurgling insides. “I’m so tired of your bullshit!” Jon’s arms with much larger than those of his mother, carrying much more force, and the leverage he put on Jen’s head was intense. Whether she liked it or not, her throat was being totally cored out by his dick. Her eyes went wide, then rolled back to whites. After over fifteen inches had disappeared, he felt his cockhead press against the hot, slick sack of her stomach, and still he pressed onward.  
  
“Oh my fucking god,” his mother moaned, getting obviously turned on at the sight. Her hands free, she was doing a lewd back-bend, supporting herself with one arm and her toes, spreading her thighs, fingering her puffy, wet pussy fast enough to send droplets of lube flying with sprinkler-like profusion. “You’re such a stud, Jon! Use your sister as your personal sperm toilet! It’s so hot to watch you choke-fuck her with that massive fucking cock! Nnngh, I’m going to cuuuuuuum!”  
  
Her voice turned into a banshee’s wail, her thick bubble-butt tensing in it’s position half-a-foot off the ground. The droplets of lube spraying out of her pussy became a solid jet that exploded all over her son’s chest, soaking it, ricocheting back to hit Jen’s cock-stuffed face. The bout of squirting continued for seconds on end as Jane’s rock-solid MILF body roiled and jittered like a shivering dog, her tits bouncing, her pussy spasming with each release of fluid. Jon’s perfectly muscled form was immediately coated, rivulets of her girlcum sliding down the stone terrace of his abs. She’d cum just from the sight of her donkey-dick stud son getting deep head from his sister, from imagining his dick coring her fit, inflated body out and making it nothing more than cock hole… and the frenetic pace of her orgasm seemed to drive both Jon and Jen over the edge as well.   
  
Every cord of sinew in his youthful body tensing and crackling, Jon bucked his hips and drove the last inch of his dick into Jen’s stretched mouth, hilting himself, his cockhead burrowing into her stomach. “Take it, you stupid fucking whore!” he hissed, not even realizing he was saying it, that his frustration with her constant sexual selfishness was overflowing and erupting just as his massive balls were. An orgasm an hour in the making rocketed up his shaft. His pisshole dilated and there was a nasty sputtering sound as gouts of chowdery semen began to erupt directly into his sister’s belly. His virile, ultra-thick seed flew from his cock in sticky ropes, forming piles inside her, then swelling her stomach like the reservoir of a condom. His sister orgasmed helplessly at the feeling of his massive load being dumped inside her. Wetness splattered out from between her legs and onto the floor like an animal pissing itself, soaking the basement tile in gouts while her tits hung enormous, swaying from side to side as she shuddered. Between her and her mother, it was impossible to tell which slut was spraying the most - only that the area was quickly turning into an oil slick of feminine squirt.   
  
Jon used his hands to pull Jen’s mouth off of his cock after a minute of constant cum-spewing, knowing there was more to cum, knowing that on a good day he could fill a bucket with his seed and that he was nowhere near done. Her rose from the couch and jerked the end of his cock off with one hand while poising his pisshole over her gurgling, drooling skank face, watching and grunting with satisfaction as whitish-yellow ropes of his unbelievably pungent cum began to cake her face, piling on her features, first coating them and then obscuring them, piling on itself.  
  
“Fuck, yes! Cum all over her face!” his mother moaned from the floor, her legs finally having given out as she was overtaken by the aftershocks of her climax. “I want to see that fat cock nut on her!” As she carried on, Jon found her just as distasteful in his heightened orgasmic state. Jane Herron had been anything but a normal mother. He’d learned Santa Claus wasn’t real when he came downstairs one Christmas morning to catch her fucking a costumed man’s brains out, his taped-on beard detaching due to the force of his thrusts. She missed most of his athletic events due to her schedule of fucking taking precedence, had ruined numerous birthdays by hitting first on his friends’ fathers and then his friends themselves, and had responded to his desire to attend Georgetown University by going on suggestively about how she’d always wanted to meet the Georgetown Hoyas Basketball team. Jon rose from the couch, still cumming, his balls to virile and insistent for him to do anything else, leaving Jen with sperm piled on her gasping face. He moved quickly to stand over his shuddering mother one leg on each side of her waist, cock pointed downward and aimed directly at her tits and slutty face.  
  
“This is what you wanted isn’t it, mom, you fucking  _slut_!” he grumbled, and stroked from base to tip, pouring cum out of the tip of his cock and onto her breasts. She moaned like a whore and rubbed her thighs together, seemingly begging for more, and more is exactly what Jon Herron had. More muscle, more speed, more power, more cock, more cum. Rope after rope of tar-thick sperm splattered down on her face, between her breasts, all over her swan-like neck and the tanned, high-cheekboned features of her face. The boy took particular pleasure in gluing her eyes and nostrils shut, and filling her mouth, finally shutting her up. It might have been what she wanted, but it was still vengeance in his mind - he was doing it on his terms.  
  
After two minutes, both mother and sister were totally covered in cum. Their faces were buried under goopy loads of the stuff, plastered perhaps being the word, and their breasts soiled as well, they were using their hands to rub the mess all over their tanned and toned bodies like wallowing hogs. His orgasm flagging at last, Jon staggered slightly and then flopped back onto the couch, dappled with sweat.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower,” he puffed, his chest rising and falling with exertion. He rose again, intending to leave them laying, wanting to remove himself from the scene as fast as possible. He was already feeling an intense sensation of post-orgasmic dread. He’d just face-fucked his own sister. This was something he associated with trailer trash, not up-and-coming student athletes.   
  
As he moved through the room, though, he fel a long-nailed hand clutch his ankle firmly. “Where do you think you’re goin’, little bro?” came the voice from the floor.   
  
Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed.  
  
\---  
  
Half an hour after blowing the biggest load of his life, Jon found himself sitting in the large shower on the top floor of the house. It was accessible only from the master bedroom, with marble walls and a stone tile floor, and had a sauna-style bench installed, and large enough that three people could easily take their ease inside while the luxury high-flow showerhead rained down a soothing stream. His mother and sister were on either side of him, naked as he was and leaning against his muscled torso, each one using their tongues to suck and lick at one of his nipples. Their perfect bodies glistening with droplets of water, they insisted on worshiping his physique despite the fact that he’d begged off.  _It was a mistake_ , he’d said.  _We shouldn’t have done that._  
  
Jane and Jen didn’t care what he thought, just as they hadn’t heeded his warnings in the den. They insisted on draping themselves against him, backs arched, buttocks clapping, water beating off of their slutty tattoos and sluicing down their cleavages and asscracks in torrents. They moaned like whores and whispered to him, each with one hand on the shaft of his massive penis, which hung flaccid over the edge of the wall-mounted bench and almost to the tiled floor.  
  
“God, you came so fucking much,” his mother hissed in his ear, before ducking her head down to suck his nipple again, then to trail her tongue across his pectoral muscle and up his neck. “I always knew you’d grow up to be a fucking  _stud_.”  
  
“It really was an amazing load, bro,” Jen added, giggling a little as she licked up his cheek and down the side of his neck as well, pausing to kiss her mother on the mouth. “You must have so much sperm in those fat fucking cum tanks of yours all the time.” She hissed and shuddered a little, her white teeth digging into her puffy lower lip while water ran down her tanned body. “Fuck, I came just from feeling your cum blasting my fucking face-”  
  
Her statement degenerated into a moan just as Jane interrupted, her hand moving from Jon’s shaft to his ballsack, which hung enormous on the bench, slick with water. Her palm wasn’t large enough to cup one of his testicles, but the horny mother couldn’t resist groping the orb, kneading it, putting her fingers under it to feel the cum-loaded weight. “Mmm…she’s right, Jon,” she hissed, leaning against her son and running her opposite hand over the tight abdominals of her own midsection. Her breasts were so large that the nearest one lay on top of Jon’s thigh.  “You dumped so much thick, nasty sperm straight into her stomach.” Her hand caressed her midriff again, as if she was imagining such treatment for herself, and she nibbled Jon’s earlobe and let her hot breath slice his ear as she continued her monologue. “You’re not allowed to use that bucket anymore, Jon. I want you to use me… your very own mother.” Her voice was a wanton, hungry purr. “When you need to, you find me and you  _feed me that chunky, nasty fucking load_.”  
  
“It’s so thick I had to chew it,” swooned Jen breathlessly, licking across Jon’s abs, sucking the water from the furrows between each individual muscle. “You’re a total stud, little bro. It felt like someone hit me in the face with a pie when you nutted on me. And your pisshole is so big… I loved putting my tongue inside, slurping all the cum out of your big horse cock!” She winked, her bleached blonde hair plastered to her face and neck by the water, and then lowered her voice to a conversational tone, rubbing a hand over Jon’s flaccid shaft. “You know,” she added. “I could put my tongue somewhere else, too… and I bet you’d get even harder than before-”  
  
Jon, who had been leaning back in a state of physical and emotional exhaustion, only looked at her wearily. “Please, just… let’s get washed off,” he said, meekly, not wanting to address what had happened, trying to think about something, anything, to keep the lewd things his mother and sister were saying from provoking a physical reaction. What had happened had been a precipice he never imagined crossing, even with their absurd bodies being flaunted in front of him every single day. No matter how much the two Herron women teased him, Jon had figured that he only had to last until university came calling, and then get the fuck out, incest-cherry intact. Now, that plan had been shattered, and it seemed to be only the beginning.  
  
“Mmm, why are you being so shy all of a sudden?” his mother interrupted. “Your sister and I can both do it… at the same time.” She rose alongside Jen, and they stood before him together, their tanned and toned bodies glistening with a haze of water, their huge milk tanks looming enormous on their chests in fleshy shelves, two pairs of bulbous glutes jutting behind them like over-inflated basketballs. “Now, put your hands on that wall.”  
  
“Wait-”  
  
They grabbed him, one arm each, and pulled him to his feet. Jon could have overpowered them but didn’t. He was still in a daze, feeling like he was being carried along in a current of sexual events against which even his otter-like body would struggle to swim. No sooner had they guided his palms to the marble tile did he feel two sets of lips and tongues begin to probe his muscled ass, the same pair of powerful buttocks that had given him the strength to shrug off a tackler on the football field or burst out of the starting blocks during an track and field event. Jon shuddered as his mother and sister engaged in their steamy act of muscle-worship, the water still pouring down behind him and onto their asses as they knelt.  
  
“Mmm, look at the way his cock hangs down between his legs,” his sister moaned into the flesh of his ass. “It’s like looking at a horse! It droops past his knee, and those balls are so fucking  _big_ , mom! What a stud! I can’t believe he’s still in high school!” She wasn’t even talking to him now, addressing the matron of the family who was licking the boy’s other asscheek, groping it, feeling the muscled weight of it with both hands.   
  
“Don’t be alarmed, Jon,” came his mother’s purring voice, from a location disturbingly near the crack of his ass. “I may be your mother, but when it comes to a getting a guy’s big dick hard enough to fuck me,  _I love eating ass_.”  
  
“Mom, jesus!” he tried to object, but for years his outcries at her sexually explicit behaviour had done nothing to gainsay it, and this was no exception. Jane and Jen used two hands each to haul his taut posterior apart like two inspectors separating sides of beef at a slaughterhouse, giving their long tongues access to his pucker. Both tried to slide inside at once, causing Jon’s eyes to nearly explode out of his head from the squirming, invasive sensation. He felt the gentle scraping of a tongue-stud against his inner walls and knew that belonged to his sister, while the longer, more insistent tongue that was plowing deep into his bowels had to belong to his mother. While sweat and steam poured down his body in the enclosed shower, mother and sister combined to lick, suck, and moan their hot breath all over his ass and balls, trading off between tongue-lashing his taint and taking big, wet, slobbery pulls on his scrotum, accompanied by lewd sucking sounds.  
  
“Fuck, your ass tastes amazing,” his mother moaned, reaching around to rub the base of his rapidly hardening cock as she blew her moist breath on his puffy pucker. “I love having your tight butt and big balls in my face!”  
  
Jen had slathered some soap on her huge tits and was holding them up like two melons to cradle his balls, transferring the suds, helping to ‘wash’ him. “I can feel you getting hard,” she teased. “Once you’re ready to go again, I want that big dick to pound my pussy!”  
  
“And I want every inch buried in ass, Jon,” his mother added. “You can fuck me while I eat your load out of your sister’s twat!”   
  
Jon banged his fist on the wall in a mix of arousal and frustration. Could they get any sluttier? Why had he been cursed with such a pair of utter whores for family members? He heard Jen start to speak again, her words partially muffled by the sounds of wet, lewd making out. The two Herron women were sucking each other’s tongues, alternating between kissing each other and rimming his ass, groping his balls, rubbing their breasts up and down his thighs. They were on the prowl for his dick and would stop at nothing to get it. Egging each other on to greater and greater heights of cock-lust. “Only if you promise to squat over my face, mom,” Jen was bargaining, “and feed me all the nasty, lumpy cum he’s shot up your ass!”  
  
“Jeez, quit it!” Jon cried, slamming his fist against the wall again, harder this time. He spun around, sending both females gently sprawling to the floor. His cock was starting to harden again, and they looked at it hungrily, nibbling their puffy lips, their two pairs of massive breasts exploding outward from their chests, bracketing two thin waists, two alluring sets of abs, two pairs of voluminous buttocks piled on the floor as they sat, sprawled on their butts with hands palm-down on the tile. “I’m NOT going to have sex with you! You’re my mom and sister, for pete’s sake!”  
  
“So?” came Jen’s reply, and really, Jon should have expected it. She regarded him with bratty obstinacy.  “I’m not going to pass up on a cock like that just because we’re related, little bro.” She leaned back on the shower floor and spread her legs, showing him every detail of her pussy, pulling her lips apart so he could see her wet, inviting tunnel. Beside her, his mother did the same, except on all fours, showing him the doggy-style view. She arched her back in exaggerated fashion, twerking her thick ass, her breasts so big and weighty they piled on the floor. Looking back over her shoulder expectantly, it was clear she would have been totally satisfied with Jon spearing his cock into her twat right then and there.  
  
“Fuck me, Jon,” Jen seethed. “Pound my pussy!”  
  
“And my ass!” Jane added.  
  
Jon trembled, hands clenching and unclenching, seeing their glistening bodies bathed in steam and sweat and beads of water. Feeling his cock starting to harden, he closed his eyes in frustration and cried out. “Stop!” The muscled 16-year-old boy stomped out of the shower, cutting a path between them, pausing only to grab a towel before quitting the premises entirely. “I’m not your plaything!” he called out, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Jane and Jen looked at each other, the water still beating down on their lewdly-posed bodies. “We’ll get him,” the elder woman said. “There’s no way he can resist forever.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jen agreed, fingers moving to slowly rub her slit. “We’ll get him.”  
  
Finding comfort in each other, the two Herron women found other ways to occupy themselves in the steamy shower, and it was ninety minutes before they finally made their way downstairs.


	2. The Big Tease

Following the ‘shower incident’, in which both of his stacked, fit family members had attempted to goad him into a rather forbidden incestuous rendezvous, Jon Herron had vowed not to be taken in by their temptations. To his way of thinking, just because both his mother Jane and his sister Jen had reputations around town for fucking anything that moved (including but not limited to ordained ministers, high school faculty and students, delivery men, kitchen appliances with dildos attached), that didn’t mean he would have to add to the family’s already-sketchy reputation by, and there really wasn’t any other phrase for it,  _fucking his own mother_. No, on the contrary - he was resolved to live a normal life until he turned 18 and could move away from the madhouse.  
  
They weren’t going to make it easy. His mother called a ‘family meeting’ at breakfast the following morning and declared that for health reasons, masturbation was no longer allowed in the Herron household. This decree came down while she was at the kitchen counter, glistening with sweat in her workout shorts and bulging sports bra, earbuds in, smartphone strapped to her upper thigh like a garter. As she mixed herself a protein shake the color and texture of bull semen, Jane Herron gave her son the reasons for this new initiative. “They say it increases performance if an athlete abstains,” she told him, eyeing the bulge of his flaccid cock in his jogging shorts with poorly-disguised lust. He tried to tug down the front of his tee shirt in vain, looking around with red-faced embarrassment.  
  
“Mom, I don’t… I mean-”  
  
The whir of the blender cut off his objections. While watching ingredients mix in the glass pitcher to form a sloppy, whitish sludge, Jon rubbed his temples as the noise and the absurdity of the situation threatened to make his brain exit his head and quit the premises entirely. The week had already been a complete mind-fuck - his sister and mother barging into his room, making inappropriate overtures, accosting him sexually in the shower, vowing to drag him into sex by any means necessary - and this morning was rapidly becoming a cherry on top of the crazy-cake.  
  
The blender died down and Jane Herron hoisted the pitcher from the base with one well-toned arm, pouring the thick and lumpy mess into a tall glass. It was at this moment that Jon’s sister Jen walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a plunge teddy in pink filigree lace and fluffy pink slippers on her feet. Her breakfast-inappropriate boudoir garb only made the proportions of her body seem more obscene. Her breasts bulged on either side of the daring neckline with weight that threatened to peel the entire enterprise off of her body. It had long been a Herron family maxim that clothing hadn’t been created that could fully contain their measurements, and Jen seemed to set out every day to prove that point by dressing as immodestly as possible.  
  
“What are you doing up before 2 PM?” Jon sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. It was a fair question for Jen, who usually stayed up fucking or smoking weed until about 5 AM each morning. Jon had lost count of the number of times he’d risen to get a midnight snack, only to find her in the living room, bleary-eyed and lit as can be, lap-dancing for her evening’s conquest. His ears had grown accustomed to the sounds of her booty clapping and coital moaning traveling down from the living room to his basement sanctuary via the air conditioning ducts.   
  
In response to his question, Jen only yawned sleepily and walked over to the counter to pour herself a bowl of Froot Loops, turning her back to Jon to reveal the bulging cheeks of her rear as they ground together behind the medium-coverage back of her negligee like two bronzed bowling balls. The nervous teen felt his cock twitch against his thigh. Even encumbered by boxer shorts and jogging gear, it had a mind of its own.   
  
“Eat me, loser,” Jen snarked tiredly, not looking back but hoisting a middle finger as she tilted milk on her cereal. Her extended digit, with its glitter-covered silver manicure, was as ostentatious as a Dubai skyscraper. “Just because you’ve got a huge donkey dick doesn’t mean you can get in my business.”   
  
Jon sighed. “You don’t have to mention my… that… every time we talk about anything,” he grumbled.  
  
“Jon,” his mother continued, ignoring the sibling bickering. “Studies have shown that excessive masturbation can rob a young man of his drive and ambition. So when I say that masturbation isn’t allowed, I only have your best interests at heart.” As she poised to take a drink, a bead of sweat slid down one temple and traced the swan-like line of her neck before dipping into her generous cleavage with languid slowness.  
  
“He shouldn’t be jerkin’ off anyway,” Jen objected from the counter. “It’s a total waste!”  
  
Jane nodded, the glass still poised at her plump lips. To Jon’s eyes, the pudding-like protein mixture inside looked more semen-like than ever. “Just think of what it’ll be like after you’ve… kept it in… for several days,” she offered. “Even weeks.” The 39-year-old bombshell set her blazing emerald eyes on her son. She had yet to take her drink, but she looked  _thirsty_ , that was for sure. Thirsty for something only her son could provide. Her voice dipped into sultry and seductive territory as she continued. “After a while, a young man like you is bound to turn into a  _complete beast_.” She mewled out the last two words in the same tone of voice she might use to say ’ _big cock_ ’. “Then, once the time comes-”  
  
Jen turned and finished the sentence, a white porcelain cereal bowl in one hand. “Once the time comes, you’ll be ready to  _explode_ ,” she taunted, her lips forming the words in exaggerated fashion, her tongue tracing around them as if to emphasize what sort of explosion she was referring to, and it sure didn’t have anything to do with accelerating on a football field. It was clear that both Herron females were imagining the sculpted loins of their younger relation in acts of sweaty sexual congress, his enthusiasm stoked by a period of prolonged abstention. Jon couldn’t meet their gaze and had to look away, redness rushing to his face. And that wasn’t the only part of him to which blood was rapidly migrating. He heard a brittle grinding sound and realized it was his own teeth. Once again, the lewdness of his family was causing him to feel like a kettle on the boil.  
  
“God,” moaned Jen, eyes rolling back sluttily as she stuffed some cereal between her gloss-painted dick-suckers. “Can you imagine all those muscles of his working to pound that fucking huge cock-”  
  
“Jeez, quit it!” Jon cried, standing up abruptly and pushing his chair back, his blue eyes wide and distraught. For a teen he was very physically well-developed, but he still had a bit of a baby face beneath his messy-styled auburn crew cut, and it was never more obvious than when he overwhelmed or emotional. In that instant he felt like he needed to escape before they surrounded him. His large penis was making an obvious tubular bulge in the leg of his shorts, trying to rise despite his efforts to keep the prodigious organ at bay.  
  
His sudden movement shoved the table forward slightly as he pushed back from it, and the edge bumped into his mother’s taut midriff. “Ooh!” she peeped, surprised, and her elbow jerked. The thick and gooey protein drink she’d been about to lustily consume slopped out of the glass and soaked her mouth, neck, and chest, piling in her cleavage. The sports bra that should have provided support and coverage was inadequate to the task of containing Jane’s huge breasts, leaving plenty of space for the substance to pour into as it was stretched away from her chest by the sheer volume of her flesh. She threw her arms up in surprise, and her right arm struck the bottom of Jen’s cereal bowl, causing it to overturn and drench the younger Herron female in a torrent of flavored rings and white, slick milk that contrasted with her caramel skin and seemed to sluice enticingly into every dimple and trough on her petite frame.  
  
Two normal women might have been upset at the mess Jon had unintentionally made of their breakfasts, but to Jane and Jen, being doused with milk, Froot Loops and protein drink only seemed like an opportunity. For her part, Jane used two hands to cup the undersides of her breasts, barely able to hold them up, as if presenting them to Jon as Exhibit A in the trial of Jon Herron vs. Spilled Nutrition Shake. Her chest was large enough that significant underboob was present below the bra, and flesh seemed almost to pour between her fingers as she attempted to keep her funbags afloat for her son. Nipples the shape of high-hat cymbals seemed ready to poke through the fabric at any moment. A large mess of sticky, off-white protein goo was pooling in between her breasts as she pushed them together.  
  
“Oh, you’ve made a mess!” she moaned, biting her lower lip and showing the boy every detail of her sludge-splattered front. Her half-lidded eyes, shaded by lashes extended to absurd lengths by the finest beauticians in the local salon community, seemed both knowing and expectant. Some thick, semen-looking sludge was hanging from the corner of her mouth, and she extended her amazingly long tongue to circle over her puffy, glossy lips, gathering the mess and pulling in. What she lacked in tongue studs compared to Jen, Jane Herron made up for in sheer length and dexterity. Her son, it seemed, wasn’t the only one in the family with a sinfully long appendage. Hers just happened to be in her mouth.   
  
Jen stepped close to her mother then, also looking at Jon. Most of the Froot Loops had fallen to the floor, but a few still clung to her exposed skin in colorful profusion. Mostly it was the milk that was noticeable. A dripping sheen pouring in rivulets down her front, coating breasts that seemed ready to fall out of her soaked teddy at any moment. The already-sheer garment clung even closer to her abdominals thanks to the milk soaking. Beads ran down her thighs. Some had fallen on the shelf of her ass, and as she turned slightly away from Jon to embrace their mother, the boy could see droplets of the white liquid as they slid over the round, tanned bubble of her ass.  
  
“Now look what you did, fuck-face,” Jen purred, the taunt barely registering through all the sexual tension. “Mom and I are all  _slimey_. You totally fucking  _covered_  us.” Semen metaphors were a Jen Herron specialty. Growing up with Jon over the years, the times that she’d secured his attention only to intimately describe being splattered with goo were countless. It didn’t matter the substance. Chewing gum. Mud. Food. Water. If she were blowing an extra-big bubble, she would invariably tap Jon on the shoulder so he could watch it pop on her face. If they were caught in a rainstorm, she’d turn to him, nipples poking through her drenched clothing, to relate in a breathy voice that she was ‘soaked’. One time she’d opened a bottle of champagne in honor of the high school football team’s victory at sectionals, a triumph largely facilitated by Jon’s two touchdowns. By aiming the spouting bottle at her own face and cleavage, Jen had quickly turned the celebration into something morally questionable. It was a constant source of embarrassment (and unscheduled hardons) for Jon.  
  
Straight bleached hair cascaded down over Jen’s muscled back as she scolded her little brother for the mess. She then hugged Jane closer and their two pairs of mammoth breasts mashed together, still barely contained in their respective garments. Jon blinked as two splattered women became one, hugging with a wet, fleshy sound and looking over their shoulders at him with identical predatory gazes. His mind was almost unable to  at what he was seeing. Breast pressed against breast, thigh interlocked with thigh, there were too many permutations of inviting flesh on display for any one male to ever completely avail himself.   
  
 _One? Jeez, SIX guys could stick their dicks in there from different angles and never meet each other._  
  
His cock leapt in the leg of his shorts. And then a moment of clarity:  _I’ve got to keep it together!_ Standing awkwardly in the kitchen opposite his two female family members, Jon tried to shift his mind to other things. Unpleasant things. Real, tried and true boner-killers. Baseball. Ugly old women. Dead bodies. He shifted his gaze to the side and balled his fists at his hips, doing everything he could to avoid directly confronting the licentious display.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, mouth pursed. The few beads of sweat on his smooth brow, combined with his struggling face, made him look like a young man trying to pass a gallstone. “It was… an accident.” He looked down at the breakfast table, where his own half-eaten protein bar was languishing with morose impotence.  _Can’t even finish breakfast without the ol’ mom and sis putting on a lesbian sex show, old hoss,_  the interrupted meal seemed to say.  _Can’t even do that. Welcome to your life, Jon Herron. And until you turn 18 and get out of this cathouse, this is what you have to look forward to every day. I hope your balls are prepared._  
  
After a few seconds, his reverie was interrupted by a moist slap, as a deposit of elastic and fabric was tossed next to his unfinished breakfast, invading his field of vision. His mother had stripped off her top, that overworked sports bra that never seemed quite large enough to do the job of containing her chest. Jon’s face reddened. It was all the teen could do to prevent steam from blowing out of the top of his head. He heard a strangled “ _hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh”_  noise and realized after a moment that it was his own voice. Her bare breasts hung enormous and in perfect symmetry, girthy enough to bulge out past her tight and narrow torso, heavy enough to hang nearly past the bottom of her ribcage and cast shadows on her toned midsection. Her hands were on her hips, she made no effort to cover herself. The lumpy protein mix that had gathered in her cleavage was dripping down her chest in a slow, mealy wave, most of it down the insides. Some of the mess was plastered on the shelf-like top of her bust and seemed content to stay there.  
  
 _Your mom has fucking huge jugs_ , his football teammates had often delighted in telling him. And never had truer and more succinct words been spoken. He’d been forced to live with such comments since puberty, when his peers had begun to take notice.  
  
 _Age 12: Jon, you don’t even need to bring beach balls to the beach. Your mom has two built in!_  
 _Age 14: Jon, does your mom ever accidentally smother you when she tucks you in at night?_  
 _Age 16: Jon, your mom could titfuck a parking meter._  
  
“Did you hear what I said, young man?”  
  
Jon was jolted out of his reverie by the harshness in his mother’s voice. “Uh… sorry,” he offered, lamely. “I-”  
  
Jen tilted her head sideways, tilting it into her mother’s neck, giving Jon the perfect framed picture of the two of them. “Mom was just saying that since you ruined our breakfast, you should feed us something else, to make up for it!” she mewled suggestively, her two middle teeth biting on her puffy bottom lip. A wink made the statement even more suggestive, though it hardly needed any help in that regard. Jon knew that a cum-slut like his sister certainly wasn’t talking about a bowl of Cap’n Crunch.  
  
“I could make you some eggs,” Jon offered feebly. His brow certainly felt hot enough to fry them. But Jen only smiled in response.   
  
“Oh, you can scramble  _my eggs_  anytime you want, little bro,” she hissed, licking milk droplets from her plump, painted lips. Her voice was an exercise in wet, mischievous hunger. “You can stir me  _right_  up.” She leaned in toward her mother after making this declaration, and the two women locked their pouty bimbo lips in a wet and lewd kiss, their tongues groping each other’s mouths, two generations of pure, unadulterated slut entwined in a lover’s embrace. Wanting to get a rise out of Jon, the two women thought nothing of making out in front of him, their glistening bodies grinding against each other. John could see every detail of the way his mother’s large nipples had hardened during Jen’s lewd diatribe, how bumpy pores stood out on her areolas. Against his will his mind contemplated the moist, sucking sound of their extended kiss, the way their tongues probed, the way their large nipples slid against each other, his mother’s bare, his sister’s poking through wet lace to indent the opposing titflesh. They each grabbed bountiful handfuls of ass, the flesh bulging through the gaps in their fingers, each glute far too large to be contained by a man’s hand, let alone a petite woman’s.  
  
Jon felt something let go as he watched the slutty display. A wet spot appeared low on the left leg of his jogging shorts, darkening the fabric. Not only was his mammoth cock rock hard and tenting his garments, but a dollop of thick pre-cum had emerged from his pisshole without him even knowing. His skank mother and sister were bringing him to the point of eruption with their sex-crazed antics. He gulped and grabbed a copy of the morning newspaper from the table, trying to use it to cover his crotch.  
  
“I… I really have to go. I have practice.”   
  
Jon’s stuttering words seemed to wash away in the sexual heat of the kitchen, having no effect. His sister was sucking on his mother’s long tongue, blowing it with her bee-stung bimbo lips like it was a cock. As their breasts mashed together, shining with the semen-like gaze of the spilled protein shake, they filled the sun-dappled kitchen with lewd moans and exhalations of hot breath. The overwhelmed teen watched as Jen’s hand slid down to her shaven pussy, sliding one agile digit between the puffy lips, teasing herself. A green Froot Loop was stuck just inches from her half-hooded, pea-sized clit. It clung for a moment and then fell silently to the floor. A drip of milk slid down over her finger and over the pinkness of her spread sex before continuing down the inside of her toned thigh. Jon felt like he was watching in slow motion, unwillingly taking in even the smallest nuance.   
  
With two hands, Jane lifted one of her breasts to her daughter’s mouth, the large, engorged nipple coated with protein goo. Moaning, Jen began to suck, her lips hollowing out like she was sucking a cock, pulling her mother’s breast into a slight torpedo shape. As she licked her mother clean, a ring of white sauce encircled her mouth in a suggestive wreath.   
  
“Yes, that’s it… nnngh... show your brother what he’s missing!” Jane cooed, throwing her head back and biting her inflated lip in ecstasy. Her auburn hair, the same color as Jon’s, glistened like copper in the sunlight pouring from the kitchen windows. It glistened over her back as she undulated in the throes of her daughter’s oral service, wheat for the twin scythes of her shoulder blades. The bodies of both Herron women had long passed the threshold of anything matronly, daughterly or natural and into the artificial. They were sex machines, self-built brick by brick with pleasure in mind. Jon realized in that moment that his sister Jen wasn’t so much a daughter as a younger, ghetto-bleached copy of their mother. A copy with a few thousand less cocks on the odometer and a fondness for drugs and twerking where Jane preferred white wine and “more traditional” pole dances.     
  
Jon considered his own lean body, cut and muscled and sexually gifted as it was, and saw a haunting image of himself as the third pea in the Herron pod - just another fuck-machine who woke and wound his watch at the whim of his sexual urges. He gulped as Jen craned her neck down and slurped a mouthful of lumpy protein shake from the top of their mother’s chest. As she slowly pulled away, making burning eye contact with him, sticky strands of residue connected her lips to Jane’s bronzed flesh.  
  
“Tastes good,” she whispered, before moving to bite one turgid nipple with teasing gentleness, drawing another coo from their mother. The two females continued to explore each other with their hands. Jon felt his balls hitch and a hint of wetness against his inner thigh. Thick, virile semen was beginning to ooze from the tip of his heavy penis, and he was powerless to stop it.   
  
 _Baseball. Politics. Roadkill. Anything to make this boner go away. Don’t look at them. Don’t think about them. Just look at the floor, nod your head and ask to leave the table._  
  
“So, do you understand - nnngh, fuck, your mouth feels good - the new house rules, young man?” Jane asked, her voice breathy. Jon’s gaze was fixed lower now, on the ceramic tile and his sister’s absurd pink slippers, like feather boas that had somehow been turned into footwear. Dollops of protein shake were interspersed with stray Froot Loops around the shapely calves, ankles and feet of his relations. His mother was wearing her runners. No doubt she’d just finished one of her marathon treadmill sessions, those invariably bounce-laden journeys during which her chest threatened to batter the dashboard of the machine if she ran too close to the front. She did this to keep her body fat to a bare minimum (“only need it in the right places, Jon” she’d confided in him, giving her own huge bubble butt a swat) and to increase her endurance. Jane Herron, it was whispered, could fuck longer and harder than any other woman in town, her daughter included. She would have been tickled to learn that even these sordid rumors had reached Jon’s ears.  
  
“Yes,” he said, simply. “No… you know.”  
  
“Masturbating,” she finished. “I don’t want you to jeopardize-”  
  
 _(the huge load you’re going to bust in my twat)_  
  
“-your athletic career.”  
  
With both her rules and her unwritten intentions made abundantly clear, Jane separated from Jen and stepped back to the counter, hoisting her butt up onto it and sitting there. Jon cautiously raised his eyes. Pressed against the marble countertop, his mother’s hips and ass were visible even from directly in front of her, big fleshy circles pillowing beneath her torso. Wordlessly, winked at Jon and pulled her wet, skin-tight workout shorts down her legs and over her runners, revealing her bare form beneath. Twirling the waistband around one manicured finger she licked the corner of her mouth with a tongue that seemed to extend forever.  
  
“But you know, certain things don’t count,” she cooed, burning into Jon’s soul with those green eyes that seemed to sparkle like the back of a housefly on a humid day. She spread her thighs, revealing her dripping wet pussy, the lips puffy and wanton. Every inch of slender, chiseled muscle in her body seemed to lead to this delta, the grooves near her hips, her abs, her inner thighs that seemed torn between definition and voluptuousness, settling on the best of both. “Why don’t you come over here and let mommy take care of you?” she went on. “That’s allowed, Jon. That’s not against the rules. And I know you must be  _aching_  for release-”  
  
She could not finish addressing him, for in the face of this incestuous invitation, Jon did the only thing he  _could_  do to keep both his principles and his sanity intact.  
  
He ran.  
  
He did not think about how tight the grip of his mother’s cunt would be on his cock. He did not think about the way her pussy looked, wet and inviting, a bubblegum-pink slit in a blushing bronze nexus. He did not think about driving himself so far up into her needy, grasping womb that she could put a hand on her midsection and feel him inside her. Jon simply turned, shaking his head, and removed himself from the room, first at a brisk walk, and then accelerating to a run as he made his way from kitchen to foyer. His gait was arrested and strange, hindered by the massive foot-and-a-half long hardon stretching his shorts and the aching, swollen balls between his thighs. He’d done his part - he’d listened to the “new rules”. To stay any longer would just be inviting further teasing and temptation.  
  
He burst through the front door, barely taking time to slide runners onto his bare feet, leaving the laces askew. Bounding down the steps and traversing the front walkway, squinted into the noonday sun and allowed himself to exhale for seemingly the first time in hours. He looked behind him for signs of pursuit (and absurd reflex but comforting nonetheless when he saw no sign of his sister and mother) and moved down the path, flanked on both sides by pristine flower beds. These were tended thrice weekly by a variety of well-endowed landscaping personnel - men that his mother had personally vetted. Loudly. And at length.  
  
Upon reaching the driveway, a few strides took him to the front door of his 2016 Ford Mustang, painted in blue and gold. He slid into the front seat, feeling like a man who had just escaped from prison, a desperate convict crawling out into the heat and light of free society for the first time in years. The car had been a gift from an “unofficial” recruiter from Georgetown University; many hoops had been jumped through to insure that receipt wouldn’t screw Jon’s NCAA eligibility. The end result was that Jon could boast a very nice ride to go along with his very nice body and very nice collegiate future.  
  
Closing his eyes, he leaned back and listened to the crackle of squeak of the leather seats absorbing the weight of his body and let the blazing sun warm his face. The inside of the car was hot, parked as it was on the white cement driveway in front of the Herron home, but Jon didn’t mind. The warm, stuffy air circulating in the interior was of no concern to him. No, what concerned him most was what  _wasn’t_  present. Namely, his sister and his mother. Jen’s stupid pink Porsche 930 Carrera (this was what the younger Herron female considered a ‘classic car’) was in front of him in the driveway, and so was his mother’s Mercedes, but for the moment he had escaped the duo of temptresses, buying crucial time for his straining penis and aching, cum-churning balls to settle down. He was in one of the few places that was all his own, and he let the hot leather comfort his skin and cradle him.  
  
“What the heck am I going to do now?” he asked himself, rubbing his temples. He flicked the radio on and listened to the local drive-time oldies station. It was obvious what his mother and sister were doing. By preventing him from finding release, they intended to leave him no alternative but to satisfy his sexual desires with them. He grimaced a little at their arrogance. Did Jane and Jen, even with all of their charms, really think they could stop a teenage boy from jerking off? Death, taxes, and teen boys jerking off were the three certainties of life! All he had to do was find someplace to go and ‘take care of business’. Yes, that was the ticket. After a good jerk session, he always felt clear-headed and able to resist their slutty behavior, no matter how overt.  
  
But where could he go? For a teen stud with an arm-thick cock that hung almost to his knee, jerking off was no small matter. It would take him at least half an hour, and that was if he rushed it. He couldn’t simply call a friend and innocently ask to use his bathroom, then spend a tense thirty minutes leaned over the toilet with his johnson in one hand and the ESPN Magazine Body Issue in the other. He’d never be able to get off that way. No, what he needed was his laptop, an internet connection, and about an hour of privacy.  
  
Jon sat in the car for fifteen minutes, listening to the music and letting the heat bake into his body. The craziness in the kitchen seemed by degrees to slip further and further away, and his hardon began to subside. He even got comfortable enough to recline the driver’s side seat a little and take his ease. While John Lennon screamed out the lyrics to “Twist And Shout” in the background, Jon let his mind wander, searching for a way to outflank his family and regain control of his life. He saw an image of himself driving out to the bluff, finding the a parking area where the local boys went to make out with their girlfriends. Once there, under cover of darkness, he could-  
  
 _Is that what I want to be doing? Jerking off in seclusion in the front seat of my car? Does that sound very satisfying?_  
  
Jon sighed. Even if he were to try it, what would he be thinking about during the deed? Tits. Asses. MILFS. Bimbo sluts. He couldn’t deny that such things turned him on - and images like that would be in short supply crammed into the front seat of his car. The hellish thing was, women like his mother and sister  _did_  turn him on. If he wasn’t so shy about his cock size, he’d have been searching for a girlfriend with those attributes himself. It was just rotten luck that the two prime specimens happened to be related to him.  
  
“Well, related, and totally out of their minds,” he muttered to himself, grumpily.  
  
 _WHOMP *SQUEAK!*_  
  
Startled out of his reverie by an impactful sound on his driver’s side window, Jon turned his head and at first didn’t understand what he was seeing. Two large, brown ovals pressed flat against the glass, so large that he couldn’t see much else. The ovoid shapes were intercut in places with white-blue strands that looked like denim. Then, the metallic sound of someone clambering on the hood of the car, and a knock on the windshield. He turned his attention front once again and was confronted by the peering face of his sister Jen. She was stripper-squatting on his hood wearing nothing but a black thong bikini to go with her Chuck Taylor Converse heels, holding a spouting garden hose in one hand and a bottle of liquid soap in the other. She had turned the hose such that the water arced upward in a lazy jet only a foot, before diving back down to run down her rock-hard midriff and the soaked, puffy mound of her thong-wrapped pussy.  
  
“Hey bro! Looks like your car could use a wash!” she intoned, then leaned forward so she was on all fours, licking her Botox-puffed bimbo lips while twerking her ass one cheek at a time, back and forth in a jungle rhythm. The thin thong slicing between her cheeks only served to accentuate how large and bubbly each one was.  
  
It then became clear to Jon what the object in the driver’s-side window was, and a second glance confirmed it. His mother’s rear end was pressed right up against the glass, wet and soapy and flatted out by the pane. She was wearing a white T-shirt tied under her bust, along with the skimpiest pair of barely-there denim Daisy Dukes in the history of apparel. The rear was worn through completely, each ass cheek was covered only by three or four horizontal strands of denim, seperating her buttflesh into bulging compartments. She pulled away from the window to give her son the full view, leaning forward and looking back over her shoulder to toss him a wink while her breasts hung enormous in a T-shirt soaked through by water and suds, her turgid nipples pointing at the ground like the teats on a cow’s udder. One could almost imagine pulling down on them and wringing a pint’s worth of moo juice from their swollen depths.  
  
“Just sit back and let your sister and I take care of you,” Jane said, blowing a kiss. Her hair shone copper in the noonday sunlight. She strutted away from the driver’s side door, lifting each foot and swinging her wide hips in an exaggerated fashion runway walk, fearless in her six-inch heels despite the incline and porous cement of the driveway. This was clearly a woman who had done her share of strutting in heels over the course of her life. When she turned, she was holding a wet, sudsy sponge… only to wring it out over her breasts, soaking them even further and sending her white tee into an even greater state of transparency. Jon could see every detail of her huge tits through the drenched fabric. Not only that, but every detail of her pussy was plain as day through the ragged, ultra high-cut leg holes of her denim shorts.  
  
“Christ, n-no!” Jon stammered, finally finding his voice. Not even his car could serve as a sanctuary, it seemed. It had taken his skanky relations barely twenty minutes to change their clothes and embark on a fresh round of temptations, this time straight out of cheesecake calendar on the wall of a mechanic’s garage. His cock, which had only just settled down, was rapidly hardening once more, feeling heavy and hot against his thigh. His balls churned and sloshed in his boxer shorts, warmed by the hot leather seat and agitated by this newfound display of temptation. “I mean, I washed it yesterday! You really don’t have to-”  
  
There was a click as the passenger-side door opened and Jen leaned in. The strings of her bikini strained like an overloaded hammock as her breasts weighed down the too-small cups that didn’t even fully cover her nipples. Rolling her eyes at the radio, she scoffed “Jeez bro, what is this gay shit?”, referring to Otis Redding’s soothing rendition of “Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay”. With a flick of a thumb she tuned it to the local club-banger station. Bass immediately rattled the frame of the car, and Jon was assaulted by the aggressive voice of his namesake, Lil’ Jon, screaming “TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!?”  
  
“Now this is my shit!” said Jen, winking and then withdrawing from the car. She slid back up onto the hood with uncanny grace, her every muscle and sinew gleaming and exposed in the black bikini, and began to twerk and booty-clap in time with the music, her blonde hair washing over the thin string of her bikini top. Droplets of water sprayed in a haze each time one of her bubble-butt cheeks met the other. Mother Jane had taken up the hose and was arcing a sloppy jet of water onto her daughter’s bouncing ass in order to add to the show.   
  
 _My life has turned into the world’s most fucked-up rap music video_ , Jon thought, his mind closing in on pure shutdown from overstimulation. Fuck, his sister Jen had a huge ass… and he was inches away, watching every detail as she lewdly worked it like a stripper on the hustle. With each twitch of her hips, the twin bowling-ball protrusions of her buttocks spread apart, revealing the thin strip of her thong hugged tight to her pussy and asshole, only to come crashing back together with a wet, jiggling impact that sent a spray of soapy water in all directions. She looked back over her shoulder, smoldering at him over the gorgeous, toned landscape of her arched back. She licked her fat dick-sucker lips with unconcealed desire. The diamond stud in her nose dazzled in the sun. Unconsciously, Jon bit his lower lip in distress. His cock was a length of steel against his leg.   
  
“No,” Jon stammered. “W-wait. Just stop. Please, this is… I mean, you-”  
  
But he was talking only to himself. The blaring club music drowned him out completely. More squeaking squeegee noises came from his left as his mother wiped down his window… using her soap-covered ass. Her cheeks were so round and bouncy they expanded into huge circles when compressed against the glass, obscuring the entire pane. After a few up and down ass-swabs, she turned and pressed her tits against the glass instead, swabbing the silicone-stuffed melons against the car, moaning orgasmically as she braced her hands on the hood and moved her chest from side to side, using the soaked, transparent tee as a rag, drowning the window in suds. She backed away, nipples obviously erect, and pulled the unbuttoned waist of her shorts outward. Jon found himself unable to look away as she aimed the hose at herself and used her thumb to direct a pressurized stream against the swell of her pussy.  
  
“Fuck, feels so good!” she moaned, kneading one huge, wet breast through her shirt and biting harshly at her lip, long-lashed eyes shut.  
  
“S-stop!” Jon objected, only to be ignored again. He watched as his mother aimed the large squirt bottle of foamy soap at Jen and sprayed it all over her ass, covering her clapping, bouncing butt with ropes of white goo that looked like shaving cream. She followed it with a frolicing, playful spray of the hose. Suds washed over Jen’s ‘Size Queen’ tramp stamp and explored every crack of her undercarriage.   
  
Jon was seized by panic. Was there nowhere he could run to get away from their relentless teasing? His keys were in his pocket, and he produced them, starting the engine with a roar and kicking shifting into reverse gear.   
  
“Loser, what are you doing?” Jen called, still on all fours on the hood. Without any other options, Jon began to back out of the driveway, jerking the car up to speed at first and pulling sideways, dislodging his slutty, twerking sister from the hood and onto the relatively soft grass of the lawn.   
  
“Where do you think you’re going, young man?!” his mother scolded. She was still holding the soap and hose, her breasts hanging like basketballs inside her tied-off white tee. It was a wonder the knot was even able to hold them. Jon wasn’t often prone to rash acts, but they had forced his hand. “I’ve got practice!” he called out, looking harried, and then peeled out of the driveway and into the cul de sac with a screech.   
  
“You’ve got nowhere to run, dumbass!” Jen called from the grass. Her rock-hard, bikini-clad body was now printed with lawn clippings. “You can’t stay away forever!”  
  
Jon floored it. Away from the house, away from the temptation, away from the impromptu Mom N’ Sis Herron car wash. He felt as agitated and uncertain as he ever had in his life, and for the next few hours, he simply drove around. It was the weekend, and he didn’t have ‘practice’ as he’d claimed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t head over to park, maybe play some flag football to get rid of his hardon. Maybe catch a movie. Grab a bite. He spent the day dominating the turf, taking in a summer blockbuster, and treating himself to a medium-rare steak. Just a young man and his car. The freedom was liberating.   
  
Only when the hour rolled around to 10:00 PM did he venture back home, creeping slowly into the driveway with the lights off so as not to attract attention. It was his hope that his mother and sister, addicted to sex as they were, would have been forced to find other males to satisfy them in his absence. They would be passed out or in the midst of a fuck, and he could sneak downstairs to his ‘man-cave’ and finish the evening in peace. It had a cot, his laptop, a TV, everything he needed.  
  
It was with dull surprise, then, that Jon managed to make it all the way down the stairs, only to open the door and see that the cot was missing.   
  
His bed, totally gone. Feeling uneasy about the meaning of this, he crept upstairs and to his “official” bedroom.   
  
That room, too, no longer had a bed. Jon stood in the doorframe, a muscled, lean figure cast in the light of the hallway, flabbergasted. It was then that he heard his mother’s voice coming from the master bedroom.  
  
“Is that you, Jon? I made some… decorating changes… we should talk about.”  
  
Jon facepalmed.  _Yeah, I bet you did,_  he thought. In his mind’s eye he saw his mother making a call to one of the landscapers, asking for a little help moving some furniture, watching over two sweaty men as they moved BOTH of his beds out of the house, maybe throwing in a blowjob as payment. All of this done while he’d been out.  
  
With no bed… where would he sleep? No doubt his mother had an answer to that question.   
  
And so, this was how Jon Herron, the shy athlete and reluctant teen stud, found himself laying on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, his sister on his left side, his mother on his right. He was nude, the silk covers obscuring his body up to his pectorals. His mother had insisted. Sleeping naked, she said, was one of the new ‘house rules’. He did not ask how she expected this peccadillo to positively affect his athletic performance. He lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, arms at his sides like a corpse. His hot, mango-sized balls lay heavy and throbbing between his muscled thighs. His cock, half-hard despite his best efforts to think about anything but sex, lay on his abs. It was so long that the tip reached halfway up his torso. The weight of it was a constant reminder to Jon that he was not like other young men his age, that he had something to hide.  
  
Surely, he thought, they wouldn’t disturb him if he were to just lay still. They wouldn’t go as far as to actually make him forcefully push them away. He’d been raised never to put his hands on women, and even though he heard his sister and mother getting spanked on a regular basis by whatever conquest they’d brought home from the bar, he knew that such things were sometimes permitted during sex. But having to restrain them for other reasons? To protect his own virtue, absurd as the idea might seem? He couldn’t imagine it. Jane and Jen lay on either side of him, resting above the covers on their shapely hips, turned inward like two adoring bookends. He could feel the soft waft of their respective breaths on his cheeks, and spared a glance. In the shadowlight their tanned, toned bodies looked like sculptures. The swell of their hips off of the bed was so stark as to seem unnatural…as did the curve of their huge breasts lying heavy against the bedsheets.  
  
 _Just sleep_ , Jon thought to himself.  _Sleep, and figure it out tomorrow._   _Buy yourself a new bed. Heck, build one. They can’t keep this up forever._    
  
The day had surely been physically and emotionally draining, and when Jon closed his eyes, he sensed that he might actually be able to drift off… but before the sweet relief of slumber could take him, he felt a stirring on either side. The grandfather clock on the main floor chimed midnight with muted softness.  
  
“Are you asleep, Jon?” his mother whispered. He did not answer. Let her think he was asleep. Would she rouse him? Was she uncaring enough to force him to sleep in the master bedroom only to wake him constantly? Even his mother wouldn’t be able to rationalize such behavior. He would be tired for school, tired for practice. No, if he just pretended to be asleep…  
  
He felt Jen stirring as well on his opposite side. There was a hollow clunk as she rummaged in the nightstand, and a shift of weight on the mattress as Jane rose to her knees. They were kneeling on either side of him now, facing each other, by the feel of it. Jon kept his eyes closed.  
  
“Jon,” his mother cooed, not touching him, but physically caressing him with her smoky voice nonetheless. “We’ll try not to wake you. But since you’re not willing to do your duties as the man of the house… your sister and I have some business to attend to.”  
  
Jon gulped in spite of himself, and his cock twitched. He kept his eyes shut. There was smacking, wet sound… the sound of licking. Were they kissing? Not quite - the sounds were too exaggerated for that. Cautiously he opened his eyes again.  
  
His mother Jane and sister Jen were kneeling, thighs spread, facing each other across his midsection. Each was using two petite hands to hold one end of a monstrous double-headed dildo that had to be 30 inches long and as thick as their bicep. They were lubing up the huge sex toy with their mouths, slurping and sucking at the bulbous head on each side. Sucking it like it was a real cock. Their jaws seemed to unhinge like vipers as they wetly sucked and gagged, making four inches disappear on each end, then six, then eight. Their throats bulged. Spit dripped from their chins and splattered their exposed breasts.   
  
Jon couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and his cock leapt beneath the sheets. This wasn’t fair! They weren’t precisely touching him or disturbing him, true… but sucking off a huge fake cock while the real thing was throbbing helplessly beneath the covers? Jon had long suspected that both his sister and his mother were accomplished deep-throat artists, but this was his first time being confronted by the obscene truth. Their thick, puffy bimbo lips clung to the service of the spit-slick toy, their mouths contorting into tunnel shapes. They were turning their faces into elongated, slurping dick sleeves, their throats into pussies. Their eyes blazed with arousal as they pressed forward, moaning with strained arousal around such a thick penetration. Jen gagged a little, but soldiered on. For Jon’s mother, getting more than a foot of arm-thick prong slid into her throat seemed to be just another day at the office.  
  
Jon’s cock was rock-hard by the time their lips met. Jen had swallowed 14” of the toy, Jane had picked up the slack by handling the other 16”. Even in the darkness he could see and imagine their amazing bodies in X-Ray, their throats stretched around each side of the textured, rubbery dong, the tip reaching to their stomachs for all he knew. Spit splattered and dripped. Amazingly, they began to kiss, mashing their lips together, with the entire length stuffed into their gullets. Jon, stuck between them and flat on his back, could only watch, wide-eyed and astounded. A pearl of thick, virile pre-cum was already gathering in his pisshole. His balls felt like lead weights. He wondered idly if it was possible for a guy to die from his nuts exploding.  
  
His mother and sister kept up their lewd, dildo-choking kiss for nearly thirty seconds before parting and withdrawing the toy from their throats. It was soaked with spit, and on the way out it brought a good deal of saliva with it, splattering their breasts and making them gleam in the dimness. Jen caught the 30” rubber prong in two hands and regarded it, breathing hard.   
  
“Fuck! I can’t wait until we get to try the real thing!” she moaned, licking her lips. “I just want him to lay me on the bed, hang my head over the edge and fuck my throat for hours!”  
  
Jane mewled at the image, kneading her nipples with her hands, getting more turned on. “Mmm… I’m going to suck him all the way to the  _balls_ ,” she sizzled.  
  
“Can you imagine how much cum is in that  _big fucking sack_  of his?”    
“Nnngh, yes. I want to drink every drop!”  
“I want him to cover my face, too, mom… just use me as a place to  _dump_  his nasty, thick load!”  
  
Their voices were slightly strained from the recent throat-coring, but there was no disguising the unadulterated cock-lust in their words. They were fantasizing, tossing images back and forth like sluts at a slumber party, and as for the “him” they were referring to, well, who else could it be than their youngest family member and current not-quite-sleeping bedmate, Jon Herron? Against his will, Jon let out a whimper. A hot, sloppy dollop of sperm slid from his pisshole and onto his midsection, even without any direct stimulation. He could smell the musky, coppery scent of his own issue, and knew that meant his mother and sister could smell it too. It was not lost on him that releasing even a drop of sperm in their presence was like chumming a couple of ravenous sharks.  
  
“Fuck, I can’t take it any more!” Jen hissed, brandishing the dildo. “I need a fucking long, fat cock in my pussy!” She a hundred-eighty degrees on the bed, getting down on all fours and reaching behind herself with the unwieldy sex toy, poising the bulbous, spit-shiny head at the entrance to her wet folds. Her huge tits hung pendulous down to the bedsheets and she arched her back like an animal in heat. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to insert the toy without a bit of help from her mother, who steadied the shaft until the first few inches were inside Jen’s obviously well-lubricatd depths. A soaked, sliding sound, punctuated by moans, echoed in the bedroom. Jon watched through half-lidded eyes as his mother imitated Jen’s position, reaching behind herself to insert the opposite end of the double-headed dong into her own twat. Their feet were pressing against his thighs now, sliding under his legs as they pressed their haunches towards each other, the dildo forming a bridge over his body that connected their two pussies.  
  
“Fuck, it’s so fucking big!” Jen moaned, fingering herself and pressing backward toward her mother. Several more inches of thick, lubed-up rubber cock disappeared into her pussy, and the center of the dildo bowed into a rainbow shape from the pressure of their tight quims gripping it on either side. Jon could see the way their holes were stretched by the lifelike ridges and veins on the black rubber. Even between the two of them, could they really take such a huge length in their pussies? More pre-cum leaked from his tip, making a hot, wet spot on his abdomen. His own cock was harder than it had ever been. The combination of several days of abstention and near-constant teasing had him at his limit.  
  
The two Herron women shoved their asses against each other as inch after inch of thick dildo disappeared. They moaned, gasped expletives, nibbled their puffy lips and clenched their teeth as the insertion gradually proceeded. Their buttocks were close to touching, only six inches or so of the rubber penis was exposed to air. The rest of the toy was buried in their wet, inviting pussies. Jon was in awe of their ability to take a cock so deep. In all his perusals of porn on the internet, browsing endless videos of phat-assed sluts and blowbanging MILFs, he’d never seen anything like this. It’s like his mother and sister had been custom designed by the almighty to take record-breaking lengths of fat, brutal cock. It was second-nature to these two skanks to get speared.  
  
“F-fuck, yes! Fuck me!” Jen moaned, and shoved her ass backward. Her mother reciprocated, and their asses banged together with a fleshy clap. They had absorbed every inch. After a suitable period of adjustment, the two naked, sculpted ladies began to slide back and forth in their respective doggystyle positions, fucking the cock on both ends, withdrawing to a distance of about a foot and then sending their pussies crashing back together. Backs arched, they worked their end of the business like it was a real cock, using every bit of leverage afforded by the muscled and tendons, using their asses as tools to bounce back and forth on that lubed-up length. For each woman, one hand steadied their upper body while one hand engaged in furious clitoral rubbing.  
  
Each time they pulled back, Jon could see the pink membrane of their pussies clinging to the veiny black dong. When they clapped their asses back together, his senses seemed to pick up every jiggle, every sway of tits, every moonlit haze of fine sweat wafting from their overworked loins. Their inner thighs were soaked and dripping, and on their faces were identical expressions of utter ecstasy. Jon didn’t know if he had ever seen his mother and his sister look more alike than they did in that moment, stripped bare of their distinctive and disparate clothing, Jen’s foul mouth bare of bubblegum and muted by moans, they were two sides of the same tawdry coin. If Jen’s hair hadn’t been bleached (and her body tattooed and her nose pierced) the two dildo-fucking sluts might have been sisters.  
  
They were so wet that streams of clear liquid sometimes poured from their pussies with each in-thrust of the mammoth dildo. Jon could feel the hot wetness on his thighs, even through the sheets. As the two picked up the pace, fucking at an ever-more-frenetic rate, the room became increasingly filled with moans, slaps, and sexual epithets growled through clenched teeth. They talked about how good it felt. Begged to be fucked. Asked each other if they could ‘imagine the real thing’. Jon, who had long ago reached his limit and beyond, found himself reaching a hand toward his smoldering, rock-hard dick, gripping it. He could feel the way his veins and piss-pipe were bulging out. He had never been so hard in his life. All he needed was a few strokes. Just a few, listening to his mom and sister talk about  _getting fucked_ , moaning about getting their  _pussies drilled_  and  _filled with cum_ , watching their massive bubble-butts slam together and jiggle while their soaked, clingy pussies devoured that huge dildo.  
  
God, he was close. They had done all the prep work for him, he just had to sneak the final act while they were distracted. There would be no hiding it, not with the amount he was liable to cum. He was going to soak himself and the bedsheets in thick, rich sperm. But it would be worth it. He would claim that it had happened by accident, that it was their fault. God knows they wouldn’t be able to deny it. Resolved to his course of action, Jon gripped his dick and began to stroke.  
  
He’d barely gotten started, though, when his mother’s hand clapped down over his, stopping the oscillating motion of his tried and true five-knuckle shuffle. She was still fucking that dildo, still banging her butt against her daughter’s nearly-as-large ass, but even with fifteen inches of dong stretching her twat, she’d been watchful enough to catch him in the act.  
  
“No jerking off, Jon,” she hissed, looking at him accusingly.   
  
Jon whined. It was unbecoming for a student-athlete, and he wouldn’t dream about taking such a tone with a referee or a coach, but in this situation he couldn’t help it. It was utterly, completely unfair. “Please,” he begged. “This… this is crazy. It’s not fair. You can’t keep doing this-”  
  
“Sorry, little bro,” Jen interrupted, pausing their butt-banging for a moment. “You’re just gonna have to watch. Until you’re eighteen and mom’s not responsible for you, she’s got to make sure you don’t develop unhealthy sex habits!”   
  
His mother’s hand tightened on his… and by extension, on his cock. “That’s right Jon,” she added. “Just a year and a bit. A year and a bit of sleeping with us every night, but keeping it in your pants. Of course, you could get a girlfriend, but… I don’t think they’re really  _up to the task_.” She emphasized the final words by squeezing his dick. More cum bubbled from his tip, and Jon moaned again.  
  
“No,” he repeated. “It’s not fair-”  
  
“Nnngh!” Jane moaned, shoving her ass back into Jen and getting the rhythm going again. “I don’t… nnngh… care if it’s fair! I’m your mother, Jon… and what I say goes! That big, fat horse cock of yours is going to stay on ice!” She picked up speed in her thrusts, working with Jen to drill her pussy even deeper. More lube splattered her inner thighs. Their asses were glazed with each others emissions. They were just a couple of rutting animals, putting on a show for a hapless teen who had nowhere to run. Teasing and torturing him with images of the phattest asses, the biggest dicks pounding the tightest pussies, of huge tits and butt-globes bouncing and swaying. Imagines he couldn’t capitalize on. It was a torture worse than waterboarding.  
  
“N-now, Jon,” his mother continued, looking at him seriously, “I could make an exception… if you wanted to… relieve yourself…with my supervision.”  
  
“With  _our_  supervision!” Jen interjected, moaning, her blonde hair falling to the bedspread and partially obscuring her face.  
  
“Yes. If you were to... nnngh… let us take care of you, I could allow you some… relief,” Jane continued. “Just look at us, taking this big, fat, long fucking cock in both of our tight pussies! This could be  _your_  cock, Jon.” They continued to pick up speed, two strokes a second now, their voices interspersed with gasps for breath and orgasmic moans.  
  
“I want your huge fucking dick, Jon,” Jen moaned. “Wear my pussy out with it! You’re so much bigger than other guys I’ve fucked. I’ll take every fucking inch and I’ll let you cum wherever you want!”  
  
“Can you imagine pumping out your big load on your sister’s ass, Jon?” his mother hissed. “Or on my face? Or maybe you want me to swallow every drop? I love sucking the cum out of huge donkey dicks!” Her amazingly long tongue licked around her lips. Still she wouldn’t let go of his hand. Still she wouldn’t allow him release.  
  
“God, I’m gonna fucking cum!” Jen moaned, picking up the pace. Their joined asses were becoming a bouncing, lube-sweating blur. “Auuuuuugh!”  
  
They both cried out in unison, and Jon felt his mother’s hand tighten on his. Their backs arched to an even greater degree, and he could see their bodies hitch and spasm as the deep penetration of the huge sexy toy drove them both to orgasm. Jets of lube sprayed from their crotches like someone had set off a fire suppression system, dampening the bedspread on top of his thighs. They moaned like banshees as they creamed and squirted all over each other, their unparalleled bodies climaxing hard and repeatedly. John wanted more than anything to jerk off himself, but his mother’s grip was like a vise. She held it as they orgasmed for a full minute or more, eventually slumping down, asses raising up, the dildo still connecting them and forming an archway over Jon’s midriff.  
  
“No jerking off, Jon,” his mother reiterated. Her face was sweaty and flushed, her eyes were intense. “If you won’t do as we say… you’ll just have to wait.” She and Jen lay, bracketing him, their muscled, toned bodies gleaming with sweat and sex.  
  
Jon looked straight up at the ceiling. He was speechless, almost thoughtless. Two years before his sexual freedom? After that display, he couldn’t make it two days. Two hours. Two minutes. His cock throbbed with aching heat. His balls were churning with a mass of sperm that begged for release. Jon’s gaze narrowed and his brow furrowed as he moved his eyes to behold his mother and sister. Two slutty bimbo skanks covered in their own spit and lube, flaunting their inflated tits and bubble asses at him cruelly. They were playing him - taking advantage of his shyness about his cock, his awkwardness with girls. His mother should have been the first one to comfort and empower him, but she was screwing him over instead.  
  
 _Those fucking bitches,_ he thought. Despite his naturally polite nature, the phrase felt at home in his mind. They were looking at him like meat, like a cock on wheels, and he’d always looked back at them with confusion and familial indulgence. Until now. Until they’d pulled this bullshit. Now, when Jon Herron looked at his sister Jen and his mother Jane, he saw two greedy, slutty whores only pretending to be his relations.  
  
Jon clenched his fists. He had been driven over the edge. He  _would_  get release.   
  
On his terms.   
On his timetable.   
Whenever he wanted.   
For however long he wanted.  
  
“Are you listening to me, Jon?” his mother taunted him.  
  
“Yes,” he replied, with a glimmer in his eyes. For once, he was able to match her expectant, knowing gaze with one of his own. “I’m listening.”  
  
 _For the last time_ ,  _you bimbo slut_ , he silently added.  _I’m listening to you and your skank daughter for the last time_.


	3. Plans In Motion

When Jon Herron emerged from the back door and climbed the concrete steps to begin his morning run, he knew that this day would be the best day of his life. The bracing air of dawn would feel cooler and more refreshing on his muscles than any other morning. His breakfast would taste better. The songs of the early birds would sound better, and surrounded by this newfound positivity, his usual distance of five miles would feel like one. Indeed, he would cover the distance in a state of carefree anticipation, barely noticing the working of his legs as they carried him two-and-a-half uphill miles to the town square, with its charmingly antique gazebo, and back to his house.   
  
  
It was a run Jon had made five times a week since he was fourteen, all-unknowing of the thrill he gave every woman watching him make his way along the path, over sidewalks and besides curbs, from the residential zones to the fountain in the park square. Housewives for blocks in every direction had set their watches to his routine, wanting to catch a glimpse of his toned, smooth, graceful 17-year-old body he ran past, glistening with sweat, muscled clearly defined beneath compression leggings and an Under Armour vest. The last month or so, these randy women had noticed that Jon often had a stressed, glum look on his face, even if the boy himself had not. Now, though, that look was gone, replaced with a determined and carefree smile.  
  
He had made a decision. He’d had an idea. And really, he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.  
  
Following that climactic night in the master bedroom, in which his mother and sister had revealed that they would stop at nothing to turn him into their obedient cock-of-convenience, he had fallen into a state of confusion. There seemed to be no escape from Jane and Jen; the modesty and familial duty that would have stopped most women from behaving so outrageously was evidently something they lacked. It seemed at first that he would have no choice but to submit to their advances until he turned eighteen, and so in his free moments, he cursed them as he often had for not being “normal” or providing a home life that was even close to that experienced by other families.  
  
 _They’re never going to change_ , he had thought to himself. They only things his mother and sister cared about were looking good and getting fucked. No appeal to their morality would sway them. Their shameless advances toward him, flaunting their bodies and whispering endlessly about how much they wanted his huge cock, were all the proof anyone might need that he wasn’t dealing with rational, loving family members but a couple of sluts in heat. And it was their very unchanging nature that was the genesis for Jon’s next idea.   
  
 _They won’t change. But I’m not like them. I can change._  
  
Moreover, his mother and sister had proven time and again that they had no willpower whatsoever. Jon, on the other hand, was a temple of willpower. One did not become a chiseled teen with 5% body fat any other way. He stuck to his diet. He jogged every day, for years! No exceptions. Jen, meanwhile, couldn’t even run two blocks without taking a detour to suck a cock. Not that she ever ran in the six-inch platform heels she seemed to constantly strut around in. His mother was little better. Diamond chokers, gold body jewelry, a piece of new furniture every week… she had all the fiscal discipline of the same drunken sailors that Jen probably was fucking.  
  
 _You’ve always seen them as these larger-than-life figures. Your mother. Your older sister. But you don’t have to treat them that way. In almost seventeen years, they’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve it._  
  
“They’re just a couple of women I happen to live with,” Jon huffed, reaching his spot at the gazebo and fountain and taking a lap around it, legs moving like pistons as female shopkeepers looked on and imagined what it might be like to offer the young man some relief. God knew, that bulge in his leggings looked like it could use some draining.  
  
As he started back home, Jon tried to recall one time that they had done anything responsible or made his life easier in any way, and couldn’t. His mind went back to his earliest memories of kindergarten. A cute little boy with large, expressive blue eyes and a chestnut crew cut, well-proportioned and already showing signs of the streamlined body and features that would become his trademark in his teens, waiting outside the school to get picked up and brought home. His empty lunchbox in hand, he lingered by a drooping willow for hours, watching his classmates step into vehicles one by one, sharing hugs with their father or mother, going home to have dinner with their families. And then, an hour and a half later and following a call from his teacher, the sight of his mother’s Mercedes careening around the corner, doing 80 in a 15 school zone.  
  
“Get in, Jon,” she’d said. Her glossy, shapely lips looked wet and her face flushed, as if she’d just come from some manner of physical exercise. Her copper hair was tousled and her black mini-dress askew, as if pulled on in haste. Later, he would learn that she’d been having a ‘meeting’ with a male friend. A very sweaty, intense meeting. This was a pattern that had repeated itself many times over the years. His mother’s hairstyle and dress had varied, but her reason for leaving him stranded was the same.   
  
Then there was the time at fourteen years old when he’d been suspended from school after grabbing a brown paper bag from the counter that he assumed was the lunch his mother had prepared. Instead, what he unveiled in the cafeteria was nothing other than a huge bag of his sister’s dankest weed. Despite having one of the best years in freshman history, he’d been suspended from the football team for the remainder of the season. The coach was, he said, “very disappointed that a promising young man like you would make such poor choices”.  
  
Jen, eighteen at the time, had not apologized. In fact, she had arrived at her scheduled “party” carrying not a sack full of O.G. kush but a couple of balogna sandwiches. Angry at being embarrassed, she promised to make his life miserable. “Now those black guys will probably never fuck me, you dumbass!” she scolded him. “I told them I was bringing the good weed!” Apparently, being kicked out of school and having his football season ruined was no big deal compared to his sister missing out on a hookup.  
  
When Jon actually went through the list of filial negligence, it was astounding. Month after month, year after year, there was always something. Prospective friends scared away by relentless skankery. Almost being shot after Jen promised to take him to the gym in her Porsche, only to stop on the other side of the tracks to score some coke. Teammates, coaches and teachers put off by his mother constantly trying to fuck them all. His sister ‘lending’ his car to a Mexican gang. And, of course, the fact that it was impossible to grow up with normal sexual attitudes in such a twisted house. Even considering his abnormally large penis, Jon thought that a typical family might have been able to relate to his social issues and give him the needed space to figure things out. Instead, his sister and mother, upon discovering his gifts, had immediately tried to fuck him, blood relation or no blood relation.  
  
He was almost home, and began to pick up speed for the last quarter-mile. He leaped curbs and puddles, feeling empowered for the first time in ages. Jon’s every instinct had always been to respect his family. Books, movies, and schoolteachers had always reinforced this inclination. His involvement with sports seemed to confirm the basic idea that authority figures and elders were to be respected. His mistake had been applying that instinct without stopping to consider that there were exceptions to every rule. That recent evening, as he lay awake, his mother on one side of him, his sister on the other, the air thick with their stripper’s choice perfume, a seed had been planted in his mind as they tempted and teased him.  
  
Smiling wide, Jon arrived back at the house and jogged up the driveway. The sun, just a rising sliver when he’d left, was now out from behind the horizon and beaming down. He took his last step and then walked through the front door, through the foyer and into the living room. His body was slick with perspiration, his bare shoulders and neck gleaming with it. Scintillas of his sweat could been seen on his cheeks and in his messy-styled hair. His compression leggings were low on his trim hips, showing underwear-model-quality hints of his glutes and midsection. And his smile? Wider now, and ear to ear. The house was silent but for Jon’s own terse exhalations. But that was about to change.  
  
His sister Jen was slumped on the couch, asleep. She was slouched against the rear cushion with thighs splayed. Her platinum-blonde dye job cascaded down about her neck and shoulders enticingly, lighter in shade than her uniformly-tanned, caramel skin. A diamond stud twinkled on one side of her razor-thin nose. Shut as they were, her eyes with lampshades of silver and pink mascara, ending in fake lashes that seemed an inch long. In front of her, on the coffee table, was a DVD case for an instructional video, “ _How To Be A Better Person_ ”. She had been using it to break up buds, if the adjacent bag of weed was any indication. Her Luis Vuitton purse was nearby. A string of condom packets zig-zagged from the open top.   
  
Jon beheld Jen and shook his head. Her body hardly seemed built for something as mundane as sleeping. Her breasts, jammed into a tight tube-top that did little to mask the outline of ther large, puffy nipples, unrolled down her front in balloon-like drifts of spherical flesh. Her trim waist, decorated by body jewelry that encircled her waist in gossamer silver, was prevented from laying flush against the cushion by the nearby explosion of her tanned, toned bubble-butt. Both her waist and her svelte, firm thighs seemed to enter the vicinity of her butt and get lost in the outpouring of assflesh. Her feet were bare, and painted the same dazzling tinsel-silver as her fingernails. A cigarette was on the cushion next to her and had burned a hole in the fabric before extinguishing itself. It was really amazing. How long ago had she gone to bed? An hour? An hour and a half?  
  
Jon stepped toward Jen and leaned in, giving the underside of one of her huge breasts a nudge with one hand, sending the flesh a-jiggling. “Get up, sis. Family meeting,” he said.  
  
“Nnng… go fuck yourself, loser,” she groaned, without opening her eyes. Her was a raspy, fatigued croak. One hand moved to scratch her belly, passing over abs that were visible even in her slouched pose. “Go help an old lady cross the street.”  
  
“I’m going to give you and mom what you’ve been asking for,” Jon urged, standing over her. “You aren’t going to want to miss this.”  
  
Instantly, Jen’s eyes were open, piercing back at him in their Bahamian-beach blueness. She was shiftless, lazy, and a giant slut, but certain things could always get her attention. First and foremost of those things was that one object she’d lusted over since seeing it - her brother’s huge, gorgeous, perfectly-formed, 18-inch cock. For Jen, that monster was worth getting up before 2 PM. Her eyes poured over the bulge in Jon’s compression tights, and she moved her long, agile tongue over glossed and puffy lips.  
  
Satisfied that he had his sister’s attention, Jon made his way up the stairs to the master bedroom to collect his mother. He found her standing in front of a full-length mirror in a white , admiring herself. If Jen’s cardinal sin (besides lust) was sloth, then Jane’s was certainly pride. She was obsessed with her appearance, and her expenditures on clothing and plastic surgery bore that out. She spent each morning examining her age-defying face for even the smallest hint of a wrinkle. Whatever fat cells she couldn’t have vacuumed out of her body she killed with compulsive regiments of squat, leg-lifts and aerobics. She was wearing only a bra and thong in sheer white lace; her ass jutted like a shelf and swallowed the thong’s thin back completely between the fleshy crescent of her thick buttocks. Even though Jon was directly behind her, he could see her large breasts hanging to either side of her torso, their weighty undersides suspended near where her long mane of reddish-auburn hair ended on the small of her back. Because of the mirror, she was able to see him as well.  
  
“Family meeting,” Jon said, leaning against the door frame. She could easily see his cock outlined in his leggings, and he knew she’d be able to see it. Was counting on it, in fact. When her emerald eyes fell on his bulge it was as predictable as the sunrise.  
  
“I’ll be down in an hour,” she replied, not turning around. Jon entered the room, arriving at her side in two large strides.  
  
“No, right now,” he insisted. His voice was calm, his eyes hard. When his mother turned her head to face him, blustering about how she would come down when she was damn-well ready, he cut her off by cupping the angle of her jaw with one authoritative hand. Turning her head like a piece of fruit at the supermarket, he felt how her skin was hot with surprise, her fat dick-sucker lips wet with the promise of oral service. Wordlessly, he slid the pad of his thumb onto her bottom lip and pressed into it gently, pulling it down.  
  
“Jon-”  
  
He put a finger to his lips, shushing her… and slid his thumb into her hot, inviting mouth. Instantly, her nipples were hard enough to form turgid tents in the flimsy cups of her bra. She exhaled deeply, and with a need that seemed almost instinctive she began to fellate his thumb, sucking the probing digit and enveloping it in the moist heat of her body.  
  
“Now, mom,” Jon repeated. She did not object a second time, her eyes meeting his with some sort of understanding. When he pulled away, she groaned, her mouth needy. With two strides, Jon was back out the door and headed down the stairs, nervous and yet filled with anticipation. In the same kitchen where his mother and sister had tried to seduce him as recently as two weeks ago, Jon planned to do something more lasting than seduction. He intended to do something he hadn’t done in all of his years as the only male in the Herron household. Lay down the law.  
  
Jen was waiting for him in the kitchen, touching herself up in a compact mirror. Her ass hung in fleshy crescents from the slit-side booty shorts she often favored when entertaining “guests” of a certain ethnicity. They were “shorts” in only the loosest possible terms, and exposed more ass than they concealed. Her tube-top was likewise of dubious modesty, functionally just a horizontal strip of black fabric that struggled to hold her breasts while leaving her taut midriff bare. In fact, her tits were so large that the tube-top didn’t even cover the bottom of each breast. As ever, her blonde hair spilled down from underneath her Oakland Raiders flat brim.  
  
Jon walked around to the opposite side of the kitchen table and stood opposite Jen, continued to tease out one of her fake eyelashes with a look of bored concentration. Moments later, their mother also entered the kitchen, wearing nothing but the same filmy white lingerie from which her body seemed ready to explode in every direction. She’d put on a pair of white stripper heels that contrasted with Jen’s black and pink Chuck Taylor platforms. Her hair, the color of copper pans, had been pinned up. She did not ask what the ‘family meeting’ was about. His thumb, slid so confidently into her mouth in the upstairs bedroom, had hinted at something that simultaneously excited her and made her afraid.   
  
Jon could see that in her eyes.  
  
“I hearby call this Herron Family meeting to order,” Jon announced, using his best courtroom voice. For emphasis, he used the only thing at hand that carried as much gravity and weight as a judge’s gavel. Pulling down the front waist of his sheer sporting gear, he hauled his massive penis out and slapped it on the table. Often had the term “whipping your dick out” been applied to shows of leverage in negotiations or arguments. Jon Herron, a teenage athlete now brimming with confidence, had just performed the genuine article. His long, flaccid shaft flopped onto the table in a horizontal tube of hot flesh. There was a “wumph!” noise like meat being tossed onto a butcher’s block.  
  
“Ohmyfuckingawwwd!” Jen moaned, and her compact fell out of her hand and clattered to the ground. Her eyes were wide as unshaded lamps, seeming to trace the monstrous shape of Jon’s prick from the twitching, fist-sized prick helmet all the way to the pair of heavy balls that piled on the table like engorged pink water balloons. “I knew you’d come around, little bro!” she added, still transfixed, not even looking him in the face. “I knew you couldn’t hold out forever!” She bit her lower lip with obvious desire, the two chiclet-white veneers of her front teeth pressing the glossy flesh down in a display of unconcealed lust. It wasn’t just Jon’s cock that was well above average; the rest of his body was a study in athletic perfection. The base of his prick fed into a smooth pubic area cut with ravines of pelvic muscle; these further led to his washboard abs and a torso that seemed impossibly long and streamlined until it widened at his shoulders.  
  
“There it is,” Jon lectured, peeling off his Under Armour top. “Out in the open. The reason for this whole mess.”   
  
“Fuck, it must be a foot and a half long!” Jen moaned, using one hand to tweak her nipple absently. But she was interrupted when Jon absently lobbed his sweaty top at her head like a spent teen throwing a Kleenex at the wastebasket. His aim was expert, and it draped over her face. A choking sound escaped her throat.  
  
“It is,” Jon replied, matter-of-factly. “Eighteen and one-quarter inches, actually. But what I’d really like, Jen, more than a blowjob, is for you to just shut the fuck up and listen for once in your life.”  
  
Her hand went to her face to remove the sweaty shirt.  
  
“Leave it!” Jon snapped, raising his voice in a manner he seldom had before. “Leave the goddamn shirt right where the fuck it is, Jen. Or you get  _nothing_. You get to sit there watching while mom gets it all.”  
  
Perhaps because of the booming authority in his young voice, Jen did. Jane watched this changed dynamic unfolding with the same awed look on her face, as if Jon was on fire and too hot to touch. There seemed to be no angle to defuse him. He had already proven that he had the willpower to withstand her teasing. After that first fateful day they’d taken him by surprise in the basement, he’d been a rock. She and Jen had used every trick in the book to make him amenable to being their personal cock-on-demand… but he had held out.  
  
“Things are going to change around here,” Jon went on. His blue eyes were positively blazing. “Because you know what I realized? I don’t have to put up with your shit.”  
  
Jane looked taken aback. When she dared to respond, much of the force in her own voice was missing. She had always been expert at hectoring Jon, at nagging him, at dismissing his worried and turning conversations back to what concerned her… but now those weapons seemed insufficient to the task of containing the force of his will. “Jon. Jon, I’m your mother, and-”  
  
Jon burst out laughing, a long, loud belly laugh. “You’re no more a mother to me than that skank is a sister,” he quipped, pointing a finger at Jen’s shirt-covered face. “How many Christmases? How many birthdays? How many school plays, book reports, science fairs, football games did you miss or,  _through your desire to fuck some guy_ , actively sabotage?” he accused. “Remember that time I fell off my bike and you couldn’t help me because you were sucking a stranger’s cock?” He was around the table now, just a foot from her, looking down on her. A tall, mostly-naked teen confronting his lingerie-wearing mother in a meeting of glorious bodies and inglorious history.  
  
“I-”  
  
Jon threw up his hands. “You don’t even know what incident I’m talking about, because it happened all the time!” He stepped forward again, and now he had her pressed up against the wall. Their faces just inches apart. His heavy cock sliding against her inner thigh. He could feel the heat of her skin, the pressure of her thick nipples pressing against his chest. The air was thick with a mix of her perfume and his sweat. Jen, despite her orders, pulled the shirt from her face. She could not help but watch as Jon loomed over their mother. His body was like statuary, his penis a looming, super-virile beast.  
  
“But there’s one thing you’re good at, isn’t there, mom?” Jon hissed, soaking her face in his hot breath, only whispering now, for his lips were brushing hers. “When Jen told you about my cock you got  _real_ interested, didn’t you?” His hand trailed up her hip, groping one asscheek, his fingers sinking into the flesh before continuing up to cup her breast. Jane moaned, her eyes moist with desire. She looked on the verge of tears, but her crotch was utterly drenched, turning the white of her panties into a translucent film. “And even if your idea of a balanced breakfast was one of each color of fucking Pop Tart, I can still use you for what you’re good at.”  
  
His teeth closed over her plump, dicksucker bottom lip and tugged at it. Jane nearly swooned. “J-Jon… I never meant-”  
  
“Shhhhhhhhh…” he hissed, placing a finger up against her lips. He took her bird-like, slender wrist and brought her hand to his rapidly-hardening cockshaft. She moaned as her fingers tried to wrap around the sizzling flesh and couldn’t encircle his girth completely. She could feel his urethra twitching and bulging under her fingers, the blood boiling in his veins. With an audible spurt, a thick dollop of pre-cum splattered the inside of her thigh gap. “Feel that?” Jon asked. “You gave birth to that dick. And you can at least be a mother to that cock, mom.” His voice was intense. He shoved her up against the wall, the top of his shaft sliding under her puffy sex, then curving upward to split the cheeks of her ass.  
  
“Y-yes… yes, Jon, I love your big cock!” she moaned, making intense eye contact. Her voice was uncertain at first, but was gaining steam and understanding. “I’ll suck it like a whore!” His hand rose up to grip her chin, thumb on one side, forefinger on the other. Moving her face to his whims.   
  
“I haven’t cum since you both started in with your teasing,” Jon growled. “My balls feel really full.” Precum was nearly pissing out of his cock, making his mother’s toned thighs and legs shiny and slick; a seemingly limitless supply of the syrupy issue that presaged the thicker, more vital mess to come. His eyes shone into hers. “Now get on your knees and  _suck my fucking cock_ , mom. Do the only thing you’re good for as a mother and choke on your son’s dick. For  _my_  pleasure, not yours, you understand? My days of wanting to please you are over.”  
  
Hearing him utter the culmination of his diatribe nearly made Jane have an orgasm right there. When she responded, it was in an obedient babble, a mix of moans and breathy gasps as she squatted in stripper position, allowing Jon’s cock to drape all over her head and his churning balls to swab her neck and cleavage. “F-fuck, yes! I want you to cum all over my  _face_!” she mewled, her voice a desperate purr. “Empty your _big balls_ straight down my throat!” Her wet mouth formed a vacuum shape as she slurped one of his nuts, stretching his sack out and showing her tight cheekbones.   
  
Jon, not interested in simple being attended to, reached two powerful hands down and grabbed his mother’s pinned up hair. Keeping one in her reddish-brown locks and one at the base of her neck, he pulled her away from his balls, drawing a hungry moan from her lips as bridges of saliva connected them. His cock was so long that he had to lean his head against the wall and push his hips back to poise the tip at her mouth, but bodily grace had always been one of his strengths. When he thrust forward, it was with a firmness that would permit no outcome other than his hard cock sliding into his mother’s gagging, wet throat with no concern whatsoever for her well-being.  
  
The feeling was quite different than when she and Jen had practically raped him; there was an aspect of conquest, of bending her talented throat to his will. The way her manicured hands scrabbled at his thighs and buttocks, caressing, seeking any way to show devotion, was pleasing to him. And the filthy “GLRAAACH!” sound she made when he speared a foot of cock into her gullet was even better. Jon looked down and saw the way her puffy, Botox-inflated lips were stretched around his shaft like a pink rubber O-ring and it only made him harder. He shoved forward and buried three more inches in her throat. His balls swung forward and slapped against the underside of her chin, leaving a weal of spit.  
  
In this position, down to the last few inches, he began to thrust in and out, doing so with the same measured, methodical explosion that allowed him to play multiple football positions at an All-American level. The same sculpted, long torso and chiseled ass that had dominated so many tackling drills, exploded off the line so many times, run so many suicides was what he leveraged to pound his cock into his mother’s gasping, gagging, sloppy throat. He could feel his cockhead stretching her insides, making wet sliding noises with every thrust. His vantage saw her squatting buttocks unfolding in enormous, fleshy drifts behind the burnished bronze of her hair, hair that had once been pinned up but was now simply held up in a metallic starburst by his fist. The added visual titillation of her stripper heels and flexing butt cheeks only made the experience more pleasurable. Jon had always been turned on by the idea of 30-something MILFS with fitness-model bodies, and now he was able to enjoy the foremost example of one, guilt-free. Never again would he be limited to chasing his fantasies on the internet.  
  
“Gawd, Jon, you’re totally wrecking her throat! I can see it bulging out!” Jen cooed, and it came as little surprise that she was fingering herself lewdly while watching the sordid proceedings. She was a huge fan of reality television, and what was unfolding before her eyes was the realest thing she’d ever seen - an episode that could easily have been titled Son Claims Mother. Her view of Jon as a hesitant, whining, goodie-two-shoes pussy who was an ideal target for ridicule was quickly evaporating. She could imagine the scene in X-Ray while watching, that massive cock drilling into Jane Herron’s explosive bimbo body, reaching deep inside her, the cockhead pressing deep into her guts, those fat balls slapping her chin and then withdrawing for another thrust.  
  
“This… nnngh… is your responsibility from now on,” Jon hissed, continuing to thrust into her wet, sloppy throat. Spit was leaking down her chin and into her cleavage in a river now, and each time he withdrew his dick, the shaft was coated completely with a bubbly mix of thick throat-lube and his copious pre-cum. “You may forget to buy groceries… nnngh… but this is something you can fucking remember. You’re going to be my face-fucking slut, any time I want.” He shoved in deeper, making her croak and groan. The angular features of her gorgeous face were contorted around the brutal girth of his eighteen inches. With each outstroke her lips clung to his shaft like a Chinese finger trap, stretching them into an obscene blowjob shape.   
  
He went on, punctuating each statement with ever-deepening thrusts. “You’re only allowed to wear thongs around the house from now on….nnngh! I want to see your phat, MILF ass twerking on my dick, every day! Nnngh!” His speed continued to increase, and his mother’s head became a blur, bouncing back and forth to meet the impact of his hips, his hands allowing her no other course. Her eyes, dragonfly green and the eyelids smokey, became half-lidded and resigned. The impact of Jon’s rough facefuck had jostled her huge tits free of their bra cups, and they bounced and jiggled against each other like basketballs splattered in throat slime.  
  
“Take my cum, you fucking  _slut_!” Jon growled, and hilted himself inside his mother’s well-fucked mouth. Her lips were pressed completely up against his pubis and balls, the thin sliver of her nose making an indent just above his penis. With a force that had been in the making since his birth, huge jets of thick semen began to spray directly into Jane Herron’s stomach, stinging it with the weight and force of each ropey mass. Each emission was punctuated by a nasty splurting sound that caused the onlooking Jen to groan and squeal with jealousy. Jon’s sperm was unbelievably messy, and slopped into his mother’s guts like chunky yogurt, seeming to never end as he emptied his balls. He once had used a metal pail to contain the volume of his superior ejaculations; his mother was serving that purpose now… and the hot, steaming tightness of her throat was better than any bucket could ever be. She gurgled on his cock, moaned, shuddered in wide-eyed, overwhelmed bliss. Most tellingly, her hands went around his thighs to grope his buttocks, pulling him toward her, worshiping his form while accepting him and every bit of his cum. In the process of being utterly filled with more than a liter of her son’s semen, Jane Herron showed more nurturing instincts than she had at any time previous. Her hands caressed his thighs, his ass, his balls, with a matronly care.  
  
“Jeez, what a huge fuckin’ load!” Jen moaned, now squatting beside her mother and looking at John’s fat nutsack with something like reverence. “I could hear it squirting into her!” She joined her mother in caressing his mango-sized nuts in their slick, sweaty container. “God, bro, I love these huge cum tanks of yours!”  
  
Jon slowly withdrew his cock from Jane’s mouth like a samurai pulling his blade from a vanquished foe. He could not resist laying his prick helmet on her long, wet tongue and using his hand to strain the leftover cum out of his urethral bulge; filling her mouth with opaque wad the color and consistency of tapioca pudding. The smell of sperm hung heavy in the air and his mother made eye contact as she held his ‘gift’ in her mouth, a little bit spilling down each side of her face.  
  
“Gargle it,” he ordered, and she did so. Jen sidled up and looked at their mother with jealous and lusty intent, as if the material in her mouth were some treasure that should be shared.  
  
“Now, spit it into your daughter’s mouth,” Jon prompted. Jane’s cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, and she obliged Jon’s order, unable to refuse him anything after being so roughly dominated and taken. Thus, mother and daughter squatted with thighs spread, their pussies soaked, and Jane removed Jen’s Oakland Raiders hat with care, exposing her platinum blonde locks in a gesture that seemed at once matronly and obscene.   
  
“Fuck, yes, feed me that cum!” Jen moaned, and Jane grasped her and pulled her mouth open before allowing a massive mouthful of gargled semen to pour directly into it. The sloppy goo was still unbelievably thick, and Jen immediately sealed her lips around it and began to chew and swish it around in her mouth. They passed it back and forth in this way for a minute or more, their huge breasts jostling against each other all the while. They treated his cum with the same newfound respect he now seemed to command, sharing it in an incestuous, worshipful meal before Jon finally gave the order for Jen to swallow it down.  
  
“So many thick chunks,” Jen moaned, gagging a little, even after the deed was done. “You’re such a fucking stud-”  
  
“Jen, shut up.”  
  
She clapped her mouth closed, seeming confused. In her mind, she’d been doing what Jon wanted, so why should he be upset. She did not yet seem to fully grasp that what was happening was not some sex game but her brother’s rebellion against years of shoddy treatment. Jon loomed over her as she squatted. HIs cock, half-hard still, swung like a pendulum in front of her face.  
  
“From now on, Jen, you’re not to speak until spoken to,” he added, poking an index finger into her scalp to emphasize the point. “So whatever stupid thing you have to say about how much cock you’ve sucked, or what happened on a rerun of Flavor Of Love, keep it to your fucking self.”  
  
Jen looked at her mother uncertainly. Was this fair? Wasn’t it all a game? Jon gave her little time to process these questions, as he bent low and scooped her up over his shoulder, Tarzan/Jane style. Her belly was draped over one of his muscled traps, her ass jutting out next to his head, her boobs piled up against his back. Her hair unfurled down over him in a pleasing sensation. It wasn’t often that Jon used his physicality toward them in such a way. Even when they’d been making unwanted advances, he’d never physically restrained them or put his hands on them. He estimated that his sister probably weighed about 115 pounds, and his mother 120. In each case, most of that was tits and ass, and they were invariably wearing absurd heels that meant the slightest nudge could send them silicone over botox. As for himself, he was a finely-tuned machine. He’d been through football practices in 110-degree heat that were so brutal, his coached had literally been suspended by the state for being unsafe. It was a small matter for him to scoop his mother up on his other shoulder, drawing a lusty, surprised peep. Now, with his female family members draped on his body - two big bubble-butts near his face, two taut stomachs pressed next to his neck, two pairs of huge tits bouncing on his upper back - he began to make his way to the Herron home gymnasium.  
  
The same size as the living room and accessible by a soundproofed glass door from the main hall, the room was done mostly in black. Black foam rubber mats on the floors, black equipment, black free weights lining the walls. One entire wall was glass and looked out onto a section of the backyard; many neighborhood youths made it a point to climb the fence just to get a late-night look at Jane or Jen squatting, thrusting, and yoga-bending their way through a scantily-clad workout. The place had also been the scene of a lot of sex between the female Herrons and their roster of hookups - one of the reasons that Jon preferred to do his lifting in the basement. Now, though, he couldn’t think of a better place to give his family what they deserved. Hundreds of times he’d had to pretend not to hear while the sounds of sweaty, hot sex had serenaded him through the air ducts, emanating from this room. What the place needed, in his mind, was a sexual exorcism.  
  
Jon placed his mother down on the lifting bench with a shrug of one powerful shoulder, admiring the way her ass and thighs bulged as she sat. Jen, he kept his grip on, turning her upside down so that her lustful face was right next to his cock, and her puffy, pierced pussy just below his mouth. He was able to keep her in this position using only one arm clasped horizontally at her waist. A less voluptuous woman might have slid through his grasp, but even lubricated by the sweat of their bodies, his sister’s bubble-butt was too phat for such an escape. It exploded from a tight waist into a fleshy mushroom cloud above the bar of his wrist  
  
Faced with Jon’s long, hanging dick, Jen knew exactly what to do with it, even upside down and with her shining blonde hair hanging over his shaft and balls. She used two hands to bend the monster upward and into her mouth, beginning immediately to slurp. Jon could have buried his face into the wet crescent of her pussy, but didn’t. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He settled for using his free hand grope one of her melon-sized asscheeks while walking over to the glass wall and shoving her up against it, causing her ass to flatten against the pane. He began to thrust, fucking his sister’s mouth while his mother watched and fingered herself. Her hair flew in crazy directions. Sucking noises and drool fell in equal measure from her cock-speared throat. Her huge breasts slid wetly against his abs, the large, pink nipples painfully turgid.  
  
After a few minutes of this, Jon carried her to the squat rack. It was a sight to behold, this muscled teenager clasping his sister’s bountiful body to his chest, his cock still in her mouth, her hands massaging thighs still partially covered by his compression tights. He used two hands around her wasp-like waist to pull her off his cock, drawing a groan as his long, smooth length emerged from the depths of her throat, coated with spit bubbles and strands of saliva that attached to her mouth like cables of glass. At last, he placed her on her feet and used one hand to bend her at the waist.   
  
“Take them off,” Jon ordered, and his sister was almost feverish in her eagerness to obey, stripping her slit-side shorts down with dripping-caramel slowness to accentuate her explosive ass. A wide, gleaming strand of wetness extended from her pussy to the crotch of the black fabric as it was pulled down her legs, breaking after a foot of distance. Jon stood directly behind her, lifting his cock and allowing the heavy length to flop down between her asscheeks as soon as she stepped out of her bottoms. Jen moaned at the sensation.  
  
“I’m going to fuck you up the ass every day from now on,” he told her, reaching down to yank her tube-top off over her head. “Understand, Jen? Your big, slutty, twerking stripper ass is my property now.” She made an animalistic moaning sound in response, shuddering as his cockhead rubbed against her pink, inviting asshole. A fat drop of cum slid from his pisshole and into the rosebud of her anus. Jon pressed himself against her and rubbed it in deeper, on the precipice of penetration. His cock, thick as an arm and promising eighteen inches of brutal pounding, was hard as an iron bar and twitching in the sweat-tinged air of the room. “You might as well get another tattoo, ‘PROPERTY OF JON’. You fucking  _skank_!”   
  
Jon’s final syllable served as his signal to surge forward, driving his penis into Jen’s asshole, opening the tight, pink pucker like a blossoming flower around his meat. The sound was like a scoop of ice cream being scraped: a wet, friction-filled noise. “Ohmygawwwwwwd!” Jen moaned, unable to stop herself. Her face was a rictus of exertion and astounded pleasure. “You’re fuckin’ huge!”  
  
“What did I say about talking?” Jon scolded, pulling her blonde hair like the reins of a horse and sinking two more inches deep into her stretched asshole. “From now on, no talking, you dumb bitch!” He thrust forward another inch. “No talking. No using my room when I’m not home.” Another thrust, another inch, another moan. Ten inches were buried inside her bowels, with more to come. “No hogging the bathroom!” Another inch, and his voice rose and picked up speed. “And no parking that  _piece of shit Carrera_  behind me when you know I have to go to practice in the morning and you’re going to sleep until fucking 3 PM!”  
  
He wound up and gave her ass a slap, causing her cheek to jiggle. Her buttocks were split like a log of firewood, his massive prong serving as the axe. Grinning, Jon brought down one hand and then the other, beckoning a flushed and horny Jane over to see his work.  
  
“Maybe if you’d given her this sort of discipline,” he sneered at his mother, continuing his spankings on her reddening bubble-butt, “she wouldn’t be such a jobless burnout fuck-up!” He pulled Jane onto his hip by the waist, his upper thigh grinding into her pussy, mashing her clit deliciously, and when he extended his tongue at her mouth, she eagerly got to work sucking it, slurping the protruding flesh with a mother’s diligence. She had stripped off her bra and panties and was now totally nude, her nipples enormous and erect, dragging against his pectorals. And all the while she sucked his tongue, drinking his spit eagerly, he continued to fuck Jen’s ass, pressing every deeper into her bowels and enjoying every second of heat and tightness afforded by her talented opening. With almost every inch buried, his balls began to slap against her clit with each thrust, combining with the clapping of her bubble-butt against his pelvis.  
  
“I can’t believe my daughter is taking every inch of that long donkey dick in her tight ass!” Jane moaned, biting her bottom lip with lust. “It’s even bigger than all of her black boyfriends!” She leaned up as far as she could on her stripper heels to whisper on Jon’s ear, egging him on as he drew constant moans and grunts from the younger female. “I love watching you pound your sister’s asshole, Jon… you’re such a fucking stud. That huge cock… I can see it stretching her. It’s so hot!” She was grinding her clit on his thigh, obviously turned on by what she was watching. Jon lifted one of her huge breasts to her mouth and forced her to suck her own fat, engorged nipple. Jane went at the task like she was sucking a cock, taking a huge pull on her mass of titflesh, hollowing out her cheeks and pulling her breast into a torpedo shape, slurping and moaning all the while. Jon craned his neck down and sucked the other, biting the nipple and twisting it in his mouth, enjoying the weight and volume of her huge tits as he sucked, not in any sensual fashion but for his own gratification, a devouring animal with a meal of breast meat. It was while doing this that he buried himself balls deep in Jen’s asshole, holding himself there while the squat rack rattled and vibrated with the convulsions of their bodies. Jen’s orgasms had been constant for at least a minute, drawing moans and spasms from her insides. Jon moaned around his mom’s huge breast as he spurted deep into Jen’s bowels, rope after rope of hot, heavy white cum.  
  
“Fuuck, I can feel it spurting inside!” Jen blurted, unable to contain her voice yet again in the midst of her second or third climax. “F-fuck yes! Spray all your nasty cum deep in my asshole!” Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth like a desperate, thirsty dog, her face a mask of mindless pleasure. For minutes on end, Jon leaned over her as she braced herself on the rack, emptying his balls into her body, groping his mother and squeezing her breasts as he did so. A wet explosion of semen poured from the straining seal of Jen’s asshole around Jon’s cock, signaling that her bowels were completely filled with his load. Only then did he begin to pull out, grabbing his mother by the hair as he did so and using her auburn locks to guide her face to the point of exit, where his cockhead would soon pop free of Jen’s rectum. Jane licked her lips in anticipation, and when Jon pulled his penis away and stepped back, she squatted between her daughter’s thighs from behind. With difficulty, Jen managed to hold her fuck-worn, cum-leaking asshole closed for a moment… but only for a moment. Feeling her mother’s tongue darting around the rim of her shitpipe, the tanned, busty blonde daughter arched her back and reached behind herself to spread her thick bubble-butt, providing as much access to her holes as her mother could ever want.  
  
“Now suck my cum out her ass,” Jon prompted his mother, his mind filling with scenarios that had been in his favorite incest fetish videos. Of course, most of those videos were quite obviously fake, incest being illegal and all, with actresses who bore a passing resemblance at best, and acting that ranged from disinterested to comical. Now, in living color, he intended to live out every fantasy he’d ever had. “This is the part of child interaction you actually understand, mom. The part where you’re a slut who eats out her own daughter’s asshole.”  
  
Jane moaned with lust and sunk her fingers into Jen’s butt, the digits almost disappearing into the assflesh, and the older woman licked her puffy, glossy lips. It seemed to be second-nature to her to obey Jon’s commands; the combination of the earlier brutal facefuck and the young man’s newfound assertiveness seeming to weaken her knees. “Come on,” she hissed at her daughter. “Feed me!” Jen only moaned to orgasm again, her muscled body shuddering as she gurgled. A burbling splattery cum-fart worthy of a whipped-cream enema exploded from her twitching butthole, dumping a massive creampie directly onto Jane’s face and causing her to swoon. The mass of recycled ass-cum was so thick, her featured were near-totally obscured. The busty, caramel-skinned mother quickly went about the business of shoving as much of the nasty load as she could into her mouth. While doing so, she let strands of it spread between her fingers, marveling at how thick it was, getting turned on by the very act of consuming his seed.  
  
The two Herron women were looking a bit worse for wear, collapsed under the squat rack and dripping cum and lube onto the black rubber flooring. Even in such conditions, with their bodies covered in sweat and Jen’s hair fanned out over the ground in a platinum pinwheel, their physiques seemed never to quit. On the contrary, in the throes of sexual exhaustion they seemed to attain new heights of sensuality. Their massive breasts and buttocks hung in round enormity from their rock-hard torsos, piling on the floor and each other. Their bee-stung, bimbo lips and flashy eye makeup hadn’t changed. Nor had their respective choices of stripper-pole footwear.  
  
In any case, Jon wasn’t about to give them any respite. Their pussies, he decided, would be the exclamation point on his Declaration of Household Law. He leaned against the rack, looking down at them. ”You two are going to wish you’d never tried to screw with me,” he said, gravely. “Jen, get your slutty ass up.” Without waiting for the platinum blonde to move, he leaned over and took hold of her hair, using it to guide her as she stumbled to her feet, ankles wobbling for a moment on her outrageous platform heels. He pulled her to him, turning her around so her back was to his belly. This coaxed a yelp, and when the movement was done, she was standing in front of him, with his fat prick emerging from between her legs. Her wet pussy was leaving a trail of translucent lube on the top of his shaft as it slid slowly between her thighs.  
  
“You two have been really shitty to me,” he taunted, groping Jen’s breast and drawing more moans. “But you can at least look out for each other.” He slid his arm across Jen’s torso, under her breasts, causing the fleshy orbs to flop down over his wrist, nearly obscuring it. His cock was getting harder, standing horizontally and rising. A pearl of cum was dripping from the tip. Even after all the fucking, he had stamina to spare. “Now,” he continued, looking at his mother as she lay on the floor, her face a mask of semen, “Get over here and clean my dick,  _mother_.” He used the term sarcastically.  
  
Jane came on hand and knee, her tits swaying and nearly scraping the floor. With her back arched, her ass jutted behind her in gleaming, curvy proliferation.  
  
“Ask her to suck the taste of your slutty ass off my cock,” Jon hissed into Jen’s ear, and the younger female gulped and purred. “Talk her through it. Ask her what it’s like.”  
  
“Mmmnngh… mom, suck Jon’s cock. Put it all the way down your throat-”  
  
“You can do better than that, Jen. Talk to her the way you talk when you want men to like you.” Jon groped a breast again, twisting a huge nipple between three fingers.  
  
“F-fuck… shove his big fucking horse cock into your throat and fucking choke on it!” Jen ordered her mother, shuddering and rubbing her thighs together as the older woman did so. “Suck it clean! How does my slutty ass taste, mother? Jon said he’s going to fuck my ass every day! So you can clean his cock as much as you want!”  
  
“Better,” Jon taunted. “I might let you talk after all, with certain restrictions.”  
  
“H-how does it taste?” Jen moaned, eyes shut, feeling Jon’s hands probing her body. His strong, powerful hands.  
  
“Nnngh, it’s amazing!” Jane moaned, licking up and down each side of Jon’s long, smooth penis, marveling at the size as she did so. “I love the taste of my own daughter’s well-fucked ass, is that what you want to hear, Jon? That I’m a fucking whore? That I love the taste of your thick, nasty cum? That it turns me on to think about what a fucking  _stud_  my own son is?”  
  
“I already knew all that, mom,” he replied. “Instead of telling me what a fucking skank you are, which everyone in town already knows, why don’t you be a useful mother for once and guide that cock into your daughter’s pussy.”  
  
Jen gasped as Jon lifted her up by her thin waist, then hooked his arms under her knees, spreading her legs and suspending her in front of him, holding up her petite, fit body with nothing but his own strength. It was enough to almost make her cum right there. Her dripping, bubblegum-pink pussy glistened only inches away from the fat knob of Jon’s huge dick, which was rising from his pelvis at a 45-degree angle and seemed thicker than her arm. As if to prove his sexual prowess, a rivulet of thick cum was already leaking from his large pisshole.   
  
It was on this spot that Jane planted a worshipful kiss, taking his dick just under the crown with her small hand that could not come close to encircling the girth, making it look even larger. Biting her lower lip, she guided Jon’s cock upward, closer to vertical. Jon lifted Jen higher to match. “Do it, Jon,” Jane hissed. “Fuck up your sister’s tight pussy with every inch of that monster!”   
  
Jen gasped as the fat cockhead was poised to split her slick folds. “Empty your  _fat fucking balls_  in my cunt!” she seethed at her brother. Her flawless teeth were gritted as she said it-  
  
-and then there was a ring of the doorbell. Followed shortly by an insistent knock.  
  
Everyone froze. Jon, still holding Jen up by the thighs over his fat cock, considered the question of whether the visitor should just be ignored. This seemed unlikely, however, as another knock and doorbell ring followed. “Shit,” he grumbled, allowing his sister to fall back down to her feet. Both females looked at him plaintively, clearly wanting some more privacy but afraid to voice their opinion aloud in the face of Jon’s new ‘rules’.  
  
“Can’t you get rid of them?” Jane gasped, her face still slick with sperm. Jon waved her off, pulling up the tights that had been spanning between his knees and grabbing a nearby towel to try to conceal his erection, should such a thing be necessary. It was only a short jaunt to the front door, and he made it with haste, trying to arrange the tower in such a way that it wasn’t obvious he had eighteen inches of cock sprouting from his crotch. Rather than opening the stout mahogany door on his arrival, he called through it.  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“It’s Aunt Veronica!” came a woman’s voice. She sounded at once both crass and capable. The voice of a female carnival barker. Putting an eye up to the peephole, Jon was treated to the sight of a woman on the stoop, a brunette wearing a halter top and oversized sunglasses. She was perhaps in her mid-30’s, and her shapely legs were poured into a pair of tattered daisy dukes. Most strikingly, her breasts were absolutely enormous. Both Jon’s mother and sister were extremely well-endowed, and their gravity-defying jugs spoke as much to the skill of their surgeons as to their genetic gifts. This woman, however, was larger than either of them, and her huge milk tanks hung with such enormous, melon-like weight that she couldn’t be anything but natural.    
  
Jon gulped. Was this some forgotten remnant of their plans to seduce him? A huge-titted prostitute claiming to be an Aunt he had never heard of?    
  
“I don’t have an Aunt Veronica!” he called back. “So you might as well-”  
  
The woman held up a FedEx package, showing it to the keyhole. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo. Unless you want to explain to your mom and sister why you’ve been ordering fake birth control pills on the internet.”  
  
A chill ran down Jon’s spine and his face flushed. He turned the bolt and opened the door wide enough for his face to poke out. The woman leaned in and looked him in the eye. Her cleavage was a canyon, the spaghetti straps of her halter seemed like they might snap. She offered him the package, a small padded folder, and he took it, concealing it beneath his towel.  
  
“How did you find out about that?” he whispered, looking around with some guilt. Jane and Jen were still in the workout room, awaiting his return.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry Jon - I won’t rat you out,” Veronica said, adjusting her sunglasses down her nose and looking over the tops. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to say hello to my sister.”


	4. Revelations

Jon Herron was no stranger to embarrassing conversations; growing up in a household with two sexually adventurous females had schooled him on the variety of red shades his blushing face could achieve. They had long included him in discussions about waxing their private areas, their sex toy preferences. “I tried that horse-shaped dildo!” his sister Jen had once told his mother at breakfast, with no preamble or warning of any kind. Jon, who had been thirteen years old at the time, was left to finish his Cheerios while contemplating the image of his buxom sister ramming a huge plastic horse-dong into her pussy. 

Occasionally, they would manage to embarrass him without even being present. On the rare times that Jon would have friends over, he took care to maintain a wide berth between them and the sexual predations of his mother and sister. Once, an African-American member of the high school football team had stopped by and, while looking something up on Jon’s laptop, discovered innumerable searches for “HUGE BLACK COCK ASS FUCKING” that Jen had made while they were at practice. The look the two teenage boys shared was complicated to say the least.

Even with all of that baggage in his rearview, nothing could have prepared Jon for the weirdness that ensued with he, his mother Jane, his sister Jen, and the strange new visitor, ‘Aunt Veronica’, sat down to talk. As he leaned back absolutely naked on the living room couch, his enormous half-hard cock flopping down over the cushion’s edge while his balls lay in a bulging sack against the leather upholstery, he tried to interpret the strange looks being exchanged between his mother and the new arrival and could not. His sister Jen, meanwhile, was draped against his side and plunging her hand across his ribbed midsection to fondle the base of his penis. He could feel her hot breath in his ear as her tanned, muscled body leaned against him in a tight package, her enormous boobs bisected by his right arm. She apparently couldn’t care less about Veronica being present, or (and this was Jon’s assumption) was too dumb to realize that the visit was significant. A backwards Oakland Raiders baseball cap was the only article of clothing she’d bothered to put back on, and her bleached blonde hair scythed down from under it with wild sensuality. She was the one who had insisted he go nude while they all held palaver, proving she was as cock-obsessed as ever.

Jon could see the family resemblance between his mother and Veronica. The lithe facial features and high cheekbones, full lips, perfectly proportioned waists and necks worthy of the most limber ballerina dancers, all in contrast to the vast expanses of tits and ass that seemed to explode outward in every direction. Yet there were differences as well. Veronica’s chest was larger and also shaped differently. While his mother’s breasts defied gravity with perfect spherical poise, Veronica’s hung like a pair of literal milk tanks in a ruffled halter top. The overtaxed garment seemed more like a fabric sack containing two watermelons than it did an article of clothing, and in spite of the strangeness of the occasion, Jon couldn’t help but imagine how those massive jugs might feel wrapped around his cock. They looked so soft and voluminous and weighty, he imagined that if he reached forward to grab one, his fingers would sink right in.

Reaching into her oversized handbag, Veronica pulled out a large, glossy photo album. The simple cover was stitched with the phrase “Herron History”, and she wordlessly placed it on the glass coffee table, turning it a hundred-eighty degrees so that it was rightways up to Jon. “I’ve come to show you your family’s history, Jon,” his Aunt said, meaningfully. “A boy growing up, never knowing his father… you must have struggled, wondering where you came from or why.”

“Why father was a crab fisherman,” Jon said automatically, though the words didn’t come with much conviction. The moment was surreal and growing stranger, his sister was still slowly, achingly stroking his prick and licking the side of his neck, her sizzling, perfumed body pressed against his side and allowing him to feel every soft curve of her physique. His mother looked alarmed, and Veronica expectant. “He died in the Bering Sea.”

“Vee, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Jane interrupted, and Jon heard in her voice a reticence and care for possible consequences that was unfamiliar. His mother had never been one to worry about consequences. She took life at one speed: full throttle. Now, almost totally naked and with cum still glazing her face, she seemed more concerned with the introduction of the photo album than any sense of decorum. She leaned against Jon’s opposite side, her massive tits pressed against his rippling ribcage, looking at the book with something like apprehension. Jon sensed that she knew what was in it.

Veronica leaned forward, showing an almost impossible canyon of milky-white cleavage, and opened the photo album, allowing it to rest on the first page. On it was a clipped newspaper article, yellowed to a sepia tone with age. To Jon’s eye it looked ancient, and a closer examination proved his first impression to be true - it was from the St. Louis Missouri  _Intelligencer_ , dated 1882. A mustachioed circus strongman was pictured in a grainy photo, wearing old-fashioned long underwear with horizontal stripes, flexing his biceps. The headline read “Hoss Herron Astounds With Feats Of Strength”. Jon’s eyes flew through the text.

This scribe was fortunate to encounter so rare a feat to-day as would be newsworthy; a strongman of the St. Girardeau traveling circus selected from a crowd two young women and did proceed to put forth a whiz-bang demonstration of prowess, supporting both lasses on his biceps as a fearsome pose was struck. A very reasonable price was requested and paid by dozens of onlookers as this modern-day Hercules hefted weights of astounding size and proved his monicker by pulling a stagecoach single-handed, drawing titters from the women within!

A rumor was heard by me to which I gave some consideration, that this ‘Hoss’ Herron did also star in a Mid-Night Show during which bawdier acts were produced, but of these I can offer no report as I suspected such to be unsuitable for a Christian man to attend...

The article went on, but Jon found his eyes drawn to the photo again. The hairy-chested strongman was looking into the camera, his body lean and powerful as he flexed his massive arms. There was something about him - the streamlined face, the high cheekbones that seemed somehow aristocratic, the way his wide shoulders tapered in a V to a compact waist, that reminded Jon of his own physique and countenance. Plus, the photographer hadn’t cropped the photo close enough to do away with the most obvious feature of all - a huge, long cock-bulge in ‘Hoss’ Herron’s long underwear!

It was the combination of last name and the suggestive pipe of flesh snaking down the front of the man’s leg that convinced Jon most of all that the two of them were related. He’d seen something similar while looking at himself in the mirror many times, trying to hide away his fourteen flaccid inches using whatever trickery he could before making his way to school. “That’s your great, great, great, great, great-grandfather, Jon,” Veronica commented. Her voice had a southern affectation but not necessarily a drawl; nonetheless it set her apart from the west coast sexbomb purring of his mother and the bimbo bubbling of his sister, and seemed to promise long, slow, aching satisfaction in a place where the air was humid and filled with the chirping of crickets. He felt his cock twitch again as she leaned forward to turn the page, framing the book against her enormous breasts, which hung all the way down to the coffee table surface. 

The page contained another old-timey photo, this time with no accompanying newspaper article, but the occasion for the picture was clear enough - a wedding. And not just any wedding. A carnival wedding. A striped tent was pitched in the background, and in the periphery one could make out a variety of games of chance; while in the foreground stood an assembly of perhaps twenty people. Some were astoundingly short, some astoundingly tall. One man had skin that resembled that of a lizard, while another was a lady with a full beard. At the center of the picture were ‘Hoss’ Herron and a woman with her hands placed around his muscled wrist. She was dressed in a tight-fitting leotard decorated with ruffles of lace; it was lighter in color even than her fair skin. Blonde hair trailed down her back in an almost Amazonian mane. Her breasts bulged with voluptuous enormity in the front of her costume, which included long gloves and boots that lend the ensemble a superhero-like tone. A slender sword with an ornate handle was leaned against one curvy hip.

“And that’s your great-great-great-great-great grandmother. She was a sword-swallower with the St. Girardeau Traveling Carnival,” Veronica said, laying one well-manicured finger over the white-clad woman and tapping the page. “That’s where they met, as far as we know. Aloysius Herron and Verna Jayne, a match made in heaven.” Jon blinked and looked closer at the blurry, sepia-toned photo. The woman’s resemblance to his mother and sister was startling. The puffy, bee-stung lips, the long eyelashes, the body that alternated between graceful extremities, wrists, fingers and calves and the explosive thickness of bust, hip, and thigh. Even the cheekbones were the same. Though the photo was black and white, Jon could guess that had it been in color, Verna Jayne’s eyes would have been either piercing blue or dragonfly green. 

While he examined the picture, Jen continued to slowly, achingly stroke his cock, and then dipped her upper body forward and down into his lap, taking his throbbing glans between her lips and beginning to suck the knob with a worshipful blowjob face, looking at the pulsing length of meat with something like reverence, oblivious to what was going on otherwise. Her tongue, pink and wet and agile, seemed to be everywhere at once, slithering out to caress his crown even as she pursed her lips and sucked adoringly at his end. Her hand moved down his shaft to rub one of his balls, lifting it, seeming to feel the weight. “There’s so much pre-cum!” Jen moaned, swallowing a mouthful as if to prove the point. “Fuck, I love it!” Her head moved forward and down again, engulfing six inches of his length with lewd proficiency, her throat bulging, her aquamarine eyes half-lidded and lusty and utterly engrossed with her task. Hot, heavy breasts pressed against his bare upper thigh as she serviced him, and for the moment she was not the mouthy, irreverent girl who had tormented him throughout their childhood but an obedient cock-slave. Her tongue piercing, god…

“Jon, pay attention,” Veronica admonished, snapping her fingers. “This is a part of your heritage.”   
   
He managed to focus his concentration with difficulty; the way that Veronica was licking her red-painted lips hungrily and obviously watching the lewd blowjob unfolding just a few feet away did not make his task easy. “All across Missouri and Kansas,” she added, “legend had it that Verna could swallow  _anything_.” She winked at Jon and he let out a breath as Jen took another couple inches of his cock down her throat. Her hot spit began to slide down his shaft in foamy rivulets.

Veronica leaned further forward and her massive breasts piled on the coffee table again as her tone became conspiratorial. “According to one story, a local cattleman made her a bet for twenty silver dollars that she couldn’t swallow a string of large sausages.” Reaching over the table, she wrapped a hand around Jon’s shaft while Jen was sucking the upper half, looking him in the eye. “Those links were as thick as a man’s wrist, Jon, but she took him up on the challenge, and her friends in the carnival pooled their earnings to cover the bet. Witnesses it said that altogether it was  _twenty-five inches_  of pork, but she made it look easy, taking those big, thick casings of meat straight down her throat. Once it was done, she held out her hand, and took those silver dollars from the astounded cattleman with her gullet still stuffed.” She was speaking in a sultry whisper now, and she squeezed Jon’s cock with one hand while using her opposite hand to push Jen’s blonde head further down his shaft, drawing from a horny, greedy moan from her lips as two more inches disappeared and more spit slid down his shaft to pool in the webbing between Veronica’s thumb and forefinger.

“It was clear they were a match for each other,” Veronica went on. “Each evening, once the carnival was shut for the day, when work was done and the people in the small towns had lost their pennies at the wheel of chance and had their fortunes read and had seen the bearded lady and the crocodile man, there would hold a midnight show in a secret tent lit by lantern-light, and it was during that show, which could be attended only by men willing to pay a premium of extra coin, that Hoss would perform bottomless and Verna topless.” Veronica licked her lips and winked at Jon, her hand tightening on his shaft, as if to squeeze out any burgeoning cum in his piss-pipe and cause it to erupt into Jen’s tight, wet throat. Saliva slid down over his heavy, smooth balls. All the while, Veronica made eye contact, her burning gaze was as relentless as the strange truth in her story.

“He would attach great iron weights to his balls and do squats, showing no discomfort, as if his cock were indestructible. He would tie his length in a knot and stand with arms crossed, displaying himself to the crowd. The audience were cattlemen, ranchers, men who knew the business of turning a stallion into a gelding, they’d seen horse cocks before but never anything like  _that_. And at the same time, Verna, topless, would test her throat with all manner of objects. A tapered rod of steel. A long and gnarled cucumber. Each one was longer than the last, until she proceeded to swallow her gleaming, ivory-handled sword to the hilt. And in this skewered state she would astound them by sliding large-gauge needles through her nipples, showing no pain but rather pleasure.” Verna gave a nod toward Jen’s pierced nipples, reaching a hand out to grope and caress the large breasts of her cock-slurping niece, rubbing the barbell-pierced protrusions with a thumb and drawing a gurgling moan of pleasure. Jon gasped as Jen’s throat seemed to contract and become even tighter. Her slender neck bulged and two more inches disappeared. His cock, like an iron bar, was harder than it had ever been.

Veronica was obviously getting turned on herself, her huge, porous areolas pressed into the sheer fabric of her halter, making obvious tents. Like the rest of her breasts, they were enormous; John’s entire hand would have been insufficient to cover one of them. “The men who were obliged to pay even greater sums were given the chance to touch her breasts and buttocks, so the story goes, they would grope and squeeze and clap them together, and lament that they would never see such proportions on their wives and mistresses. They took whatever liberties their money could buy, but she was not interested in going further than touching.” Veronica looked at Jon’s penis meaningfully. “Not with them. She only had eyes for her husband’s huge cock, and so the final act of the evening was always the same.”

Veronica crossed her arms and grabbed the waist of her halter, pulling it up over her head. At first, her boobs were lifted with it, it seemed they were so enormous that the garment couldn’t be pulled past them. But at last, after a moment’s struggle, they popped free and dropped downward, bouncing, the size of two basketballs. Jon couldn’t help but stare. Bigger than his sister, bigger than his mother. Two huge, milky-skinned funbags with nipples like pink, puffy saucers.

“Each member of the private audience was invited to watch a final marvel of sword swallowing,” Veronica went on, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smirk. “Not many who bore witness dared to confess what they had seen, but the legend was that Verna Jayne lay on her back across two crates, and opened her mouth to receive not a sword, but every inch of Hoss Herron’s  _big, fat, cock_!” She emphasized the last three words. “It’s said he was two feet long, as thick as a man’s wrist, with balls like ostrich eggs. And when he speared his meat into Verna’s hot mouth, inch by agonizing inch, she took it gladly, making animalistic sounds, like a woman enjoying a sumptuous meal and too brash to muffle her exclamations of satiety. A  _bimbo_   _bitch in heat_. Just like your sister.” Jen moaned, as if on cue, gurgling and extending her tongue out of the tight seal her thick, glossed lips made around Jon’s shaft, licking and slurping.

Veronica spread her knees on the chair, showing her panty-clad crotch. Red lace, with filigree designs near the waistband, the fabric tight against her skin and hinting at the inviting folds and deltas beneath. Her tits were so big they hung down to nearly touch the tops of her divided thighs.

“ _That’s_  your heritage, Jon,” Veronica seethed. Her skin was a vast expanse of milky whiteness, unbroken except for the red thong that was sheer enough to hide nothing at all, from the plump lips of her outer labia to the nub of her clit. “You’re a  _freak_. Born from the fantastic, the abnormal, the extreme.” She let her long tongue slither out of her mouth, licking her puffy, ruby-painted lips, kneading her breasts as if to prove the point that her proportions were beyond the regular. Jon’s eyes were drawn back toward the sepia-toned photos. A fairground, tents, touts, carnival barkers, dog-faced boys and six-fingered girls. Fake tarot readings and full body tattoos from the orient. And he realized that if he’d lived back then, in 1882,  _he_  might have been the one in the dark tent, charging gawkers for a glance at his huge penis. He turned to his mother, and she had trouble meeting his gaze, looking away after a moment. Why had she not told him? Why, unless-

He groaned as Jen continued to service his cock, bobbing her face and upper body in his lap lewdly, making wet noises and moaning, fingering herself. He looked at her tattoos, her piercings, her life of devil-may-care outrageousness. His mind whirled. He could see the banners, could smell the fairground. Fifteen cents to see the tattooed woman, the tan-skinned jezebel! More exotic than anything from the wilds of darkest Africa! He slid his hand down to cup one of Jen’s large, slutty bimbo breasts, rubbing a thumb over the barbell piercing in her pink nipple, which contrasted so starkly with her sun-bronzed flesh. Veronica’s voice echoed in his mind:

_She would astound them by sliding large-gauge needles through her nipples, showing no pain but rather pleasure._

All his life he’d had no explanation for the size of his penis, for the strangeness of his mother and sister. But now, all this new information was sliding puzzle pieces into place. He struggled to focus and found it harder and harder as Jen’s amazing throat-job massaged his throbbing erection. She had swallowed almost the entire length, and was bobbing her head insistently, moaning like a slut, as if she wanted to inhale his cock whole and nothing else would satisfy her.

“F-fuck!” he hissed, shutting his eyes and thrusting his pelvis upward, driving more dick into Jen’s mouth while squeezing her breast. Her hand went to his balls, making a milking motion, a worshipful caress. The message was clear. She loved thick cum, and she knew that his heavy, sperm-laden nuts were the prime source. 

“Cum down her throat, Jon,” Veronica whispered across the table, breathy with anticipation. Her eyes were wide emeralds, taking in every detail. “A Herron woman is a Herron woman. She  _loves big cocks_. We  _all_  do! Our bodies were  _made_  to please them, so fill her up with your thick load! Show your aunt how much you can shoot!”

Jon made a grunting noise and exhaled as his balls twitched, seeming to draw up minutely against the base of his shaft, and both his mother and aunt gasped as they looked on. Eyes still shut, he gripped Jen’s bleached hair and pressed her head down, making sure she couldn’t move, aching for that feeling of release, wanting to blow every bit of his cum inside her. Her mouth was stretched into a wide, lewd blowjob face by his girth, with bubbles of spit inflating and shining in the corners. From his vantage, Jon could see her graceful neck, her lean, muscled back, and twin jutting, twerking mounds of her bubble butt. She was the perfect bimbo skank whore.

He continued holding Jen as thick, virile cum rocketed through his throat-wrapped shaft, spurting in gouts deep inside her body; despite himself he was turned on by what a tanned, toned bimbo bitch she was, and enjoyed the feeling of her hair in his hands and her huge breasts sliding wetly against his thigh. There were muffled liquid sounds from within her body that were audible to all four of them, the sound of sperm rushing out of his pisshole and spraying into her body as she gave her throat to him, her piercing blue eyes half-lidded, her mouth stretched, one hand milking his sack and one hand between her own legs, rubbing her sopping wet pussy. The sounds came at one to two second intervals.  _SPLUUUURG. SPLUUURG. SPLUUURG_. Jane and Veronica listened, obviously turned on. Jane looked both nervous and jealous, licking her glossy, inflated bimbo lips as if wanting a taste herself. Veronica’s eyes were gleaming, as if imagining the possibilities opened up by the presence of such a stud.

After four or five shots of thick cream had exploded into her guts, Jen’s body tensed and she shuddered to her own orgasm, fingering herself shamelessly and clearly enjoying the feeling of swallowing her brother’s countless, virile sperm. Her back arched and a cat-like mewl came from inside her chest as the bubbles of spit decorating her stretched lips multiplied and expanded. 

“God, what a huge load!” Jane couldn’t help but comment, fingering herself as well. She was just as nude as Jen, of course, and just as coated with sweat. Her tight, muscled body vacillated with aroused breaths that lifted and dropped her enormous jugs. “You’re such a stud, Jon!” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, tousling his hair in an absurd act of matriarchal pride. The family resemblance between her and her sister Veronica became crystal clear as they both watched; the eyes, the enormous, bimbo lips, the unnaturally long eyelashes. Veronica’s lack of tan, crimson dye-job and massive milk tanks aside, they could be twins.

“He’s just like his father,” Veronica added. She was caressing and squeezing her own breasts, pulling the fat nipples and twisting them, mashing the flesh of her bosom together, clearly aroused. She watched the point where Jen’s mouth met the thick base of Jon’s cock, admiring the swollen, churning balls below. “An alpha bull with a pair of huge cum-tanks between his legs. He’s the one we need, Janey! You can’t keep him all to yourself!”

“Nobody’s keeping me!” Jon groaned as his penis continued to spurt thick ropes of sperm into Jen’s belly. It was hard to interpret what the two older women were saying, but he’d already decided weeks ago that he wouldn’t be pushed around by female relations anymore, no matter how enormous their tits were. “F-fuck, eat my cum you lazy  _slut_!” he gasped at Jen, flexing his taut buttocks and jamming his monster cock into her throat even harder. Jen gurgled enthusiastically, and the heavy, pudding-like cum continued to flow.  _SPLUUURG. SPLUUURG_. Ten shots. Eleven. Twelve. Proving his virility, marking her insides with his potent ejaculate. Her throat was a spasming, superheated sleeve, seemingly built to take huge cocks to the root.

“Jon, you don’t understand!” Aunt Veronica said, watching him spew into Jen’s mouth, growing more aroused by the moment. “Your mother never told you. About your responsibilities.” Veronica and Jane met eyes for a moment, and it was Jane who looked away first, seemingly not knowing what to say. It occurred to Jon, as his orgasm subsided and he pulled Jen’s head off of his cock with a lewd  _*SCHLORP*_ , that his mother had been uncharacteristically passive since Veronica had arrived. His breathing heightened by the release he’d just experienced, he shook his head at the two of them with bewilderment. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I was just starting to get a handle on this, and now things are crazier than ever. I didn’t even know my mom  _had_  a sister until you showed up.”

Veronica made a frustrated huffing noise and grabbed the photo album from the table. “Janey, you really told him nothing?” she scolded, before pushing the album close to Jon, opening it to the middle, revealing a photo of a man standing on a white-painted wooden porch in front of a screen door, flanked by perhaps a half-dozen women on each side. The girls ranged from teenagers to young adults, and all of them had massive breasts and long, toned legs, the sort a horny farmboy might imagine running in a meadow and showing a glimpse of taut thigh beneath windblown skirts. The photo was clearly from the 1970’s or 1980’s, but even with the washed-out colors, Jon could see they all had hair that was either blonde or red. They were dressed in identical cloth dresses with button-up fronts that showed considerable cleavage. Veronica slammed her finger down on the man’s face. “Jon Herron, your father was no crab fisherman. He was a farmer in Herron County, Missouri.”

Jon blinked. The man  _did_  resemble his father, though he was younger in the photo than in any picture that Jon had ever seen of him. He’d always suspected something was fishy about his mother’s explanation. He’d seen the pictures, yes, but there were no pictures of his father fishing, no nautical mementos or paraphernalia about the house, no hints of any kind that he’d been a fisherman or a sailor. He’d asked Jen about it, but she’d been four years old at the time of James Herron’s passing, and didn’t remember anything about it.

“He was one of seven Herron brothers, descendants of ‘Hoss’ Herron himself, who settled in Missouri and Kansas,” Veronica went on, “And out of those seven brothers, his cock was the biggest. I mean, it was  _huge_.” She licked her lips and tapped the photo. The man’s trouser leg was partially obscured by the porch railing, but his slacks were obviously stuffed with an unnaturally-long length of meat. Two of the girls were even sneaking glances at it as the picture had been snapped. One had red hair cut in a bob and quite an overdeveloped chest stuffed into her too-small sundress. The other was taller, with a thin waist and an amazingly sculpted rump, and breasts that seemed to defy gravity. She had a deep tan, and the way her supple muscles were hinted at by her clothing seemed familiar to Jon.

“You can see him here with his daughters,” said Veronica. “James Herron may have been a black sheep, but like any Herron man, he couldn’t resist big tits, deep throats and tight pussy. So he and his brothers fucked all of their sisters and female cousins, making sure the family stayed strong. It’d been a Herron tradition, Jon, ever since the early days. And it was the only way the Herron genes could survive.”

Jon’s face took on an incredulous look. He was both astounded and a little weirded out, learning he’d come from a line of inbreeding. “But why?” he blurted. “It’s not the only way! Why not just get a girlfriend and a wife like normal?” It didn’t make sense to him. His father was handsome, and though it wasn’t in his nature to brag about himself, he was quite handsome as well, boyish good looks mixed with an athlete's sinewy, powerful body. Yet, Herron men were apparently fucking their relations like there was no tomorrow. It couldn’t be just because they were shy about their cock sizes, as he had been for most of his life. And as for the Herron women, they were uniformly gorgeous. If he knew anything from watching his sister and mother fuck their way through half of town, it was that women who looked that good could have their pick of suitors.

“It’s... a genetic defect!” his mother blurted.

Everyone fell silent. Jon raised an eyebrow and looked at his mother, who was blushing furiously and looking nervous, an expression he’d never seen from her, especially while she was naked. Even Jen, who had been leaning back, licking cum from her lips with a self-satisfied expression, took notice and looked over. Jane looked around hesitantly.

“Go ahead,” Veronica prompted. “You explain it to him, Janey.”

“It’s almost impossible for Herron women to have babies, Jon,” his mother went on, more red-faced than ever. “Because of a certain hereditary medical condition. A very rare one. For us, conception requires… a huge amount of semen.” Her eyes went to Jon’s cock, which was half hard and resting against his chiseled abdominal muscles. “Extremely virile, high quality semen.” She swallowed, seemingly growing entranced by Jon’s thick, long rod.

“She means a big, nasty load, Jon,” Veronica piped up, her eyes half lidded, her mouth glossy-lipped and thirsty. Nice and  _thick_. And it has to be pumped deep into our pussies. No normal man can come close. Our wombs and oviducts have to be completely  _stuffed_  for a chance at pregnancy.” She slid her buttocks forward on the chair and pulled the crotch of her panties to the side to reveal her sopping wet pussy, using two fingers to spread herself and show Jon the spasming pinkness. 

Images flashed in Jon’s head of the last six months, memories of jerking off into a bucket, his emissions so copious that he had to throw them out onto the cellar steps to be washed away by the rain. His mother and sister’s unnatural fascination with his cock size and their lust for his semen. It all seemed hauntingly plausible. But that meant - 

“You knew?” he asked his mother. His mind went back to that day in the den, when they’d both accosted him, hungry for his cock. “But you acted surprised, when-”

She let her eyes fall, crossing her hands in front of her svelte midriff, lounging on one hip like a barbie-doll crossfit concubine. “Yes, Jon. I’m sorry, it was for your own good-”

“Stop trying to decide what’s for my own good!” he replied, raising his voice. “None of this makes any sense! Missouri? We don’t live anywhere near there! And where are dad’s other kids?” Jane seemed at a loss for words, but then Veronica spoke up again, cutting off the argument before it could start.

“Let me tell you a story,” she said, simply, though she was looking at Jane, her sister, when she said it. “You see, before you and your sister were born, your father had two favorite daughters, who loved him more than all the others, and he in turn loved them. They were his special daughters.” She tapped the photo album, bringing his attention back. “When they were old enough to start craving what he could give them, they would get it from him - together.”

Jon’s mother made a squeaking sound and subtly rubbed her thighs together, blushing even more, as Veronica went on.  “They would climb into bed with him, and one would suck on his left nut. And one would suck on his right. Then they would slowly kiss up his shaft until they reached the tip, and take turns sticking their tongues into his pisshole. You see, even with all the boys in high school begging them for dates, they weren’t interested in anything but their daddy’s big dick. In time they learned to take every inch down their throats, in their assholes and deep in their tight, pink, teenage pussies.” She gestured toward the couch. “Your mother already knows this story.”

Jane was blushing furiously and her nipples were turgid with obvious arousal. Jon found himself examining the interplay between the two women, sisters who apparently hadn’t seen each other in at least seventeen years. It was his mother who spoke next. “Yes. They… looked forward to being fucked by their daddy every day. Sometimes he would come home from work to find them on his bed, legs behind their heads, presenting themselves.” She bit her bottom lip and spread her knees wide, leaning back on the couch, beginning to finger herself. Her pussy was a glistening island in the sea of smooth, graceful flesh, the tanned muscles in her inner thighs and abdomen painting a picture of pure lust.

“They were young but their bodies were already overdeveloped, of course,” Veronica went on. “And when he saw those big bubble-butts framing their pink, lubed-up pussies and assholes, and those huge tits jiggling on their chests, there was no way he could resist. They made a game of it,” Veronica went on. “Whoever daddy chose to fuck first was the winner. In the end, he would always fuck them both, but as they got older the competition grew between them. You see, one of the daughters was a fuzzy-head and a dreamer. She wanted to leave Herron County and go to Hollywood, and become a fashion model or movie star. She got a tan and started working out with a personal trainer. She thought she was going to be Demi Moore.” She laughed bitterly, and her face was growing more intense as she spoke. “And she started whispering those dreams into her daddy’s ear.”

Jane’s look grew more intense as well. “But the other daughter was the oldest,” she said, meaningfully. “She loved the farm. She got along better with her sisters and brothers and cousins, helped organize them and teach them. She changed diapers of the young ones and kept the rowdy ones in line.” Her eyes narrowed. “But she also bossed them around, told them what to do, and tried to control their lives. She took pride in the family name, Jon, and that was all she cared about. She collected the history of the Herrons in a scrapbook and gave everyone lectures about our proud tradition.” Her emerald eyes narrowed to daggers. “To her, leaving was out of the question.”

There was silence for a moment as Jane and Veronica looked at each other. Jon’s mind was whirling, so much information coming out at once. He wasn’t a stupid young man. The picture was so old! If his father had teenage daughters in the early 1980’s, assuming he was 35 years old at the time, he would have been around 55 when John was conceived. The numbers didn’t add up. And the way the two of them were recounting the incestuous story, like they knew it firsthand-

“You convinced him to leave,” Veronica said at last. “The biggest dick in the family and you stole him away.”

“He wanted to leave.” Jane replied. “You know that’s true. He… we… wanted to see the world.”

“ _You’re_  the daughters,” Jon marveled, gesturing toward Jane and Veronica. “The two of you.” He paused and considered for a second, then his eyes widened with a further revelation. “So my dad is… my grandfather?!” He looked at his mother. “You married your own father?” He put his hands to his temples.

Jane shook her head, her face gentle and consoling for the first time he could remember. Putting a hand on his wrist, she continued to spill the beans. “We were never legally married, Jon. We left Herron County together, and one year later, Jen was born.”

“Whooza what now?” Jen mumbled. She was leaning back on the couch with her hash pipe, angling a lighter and preparing to fire up a bowl, looking as slutty as ever. A runner of white cum was on the corner of her mouth and she extended her tongue to lick it up without thinking. Jon felt a familiar stirring in his cock at what a dumb bimbo bitch she was. He felt the urge to pound her tight, milking twat and dump about a gallon of cum into her womb, knock her up, teach her some responsibility. That was what the fake birth control had been for. At the time, his plan had been to-

“No matter how far you run from Herron County, Janey,” Veronica said icily, “you can’t change what you are! Look at you! Covered in cum and fucking your horse-hung son along with your daughter!” She began to rub her pussy again. “I know how it feels. That need to  _breed_. To bounce up and down on a fat, long cock until it’s messing up your insides and you’re mindless with orgasms! You can’t deny it. I know you’ve been craving it these seventeen years, and that’s why you finally gave in!”

She rose from her chair and moved around the coffee table, straddling Jon, pinning his dick against his midsection with her molten pussy, rubbing up and down the shaft with a subtle movement of her torso, massaging his length with fat outer labia, which were obvious even through her panties. Jon gasped as her massive fuckjugs poured all over his body, pressing against his pectorals and piling in immaculate white drifts, her nipples turgid and rough, dragging against his skin. He couldn’t resist, and reached around to press them together, groping those monstrous mounds, taking his handfuls of titflesh and letting his fingers sink in until they were almost invisible. When his eyes met hers all he could see was lust, for all her bluster and the hubris it must have taken to travel hundreds of miles to come to his door and turn his life upside down, she was just like the rest of them - a big-titted bitch in heat. He could not guess her age. Thirty-nine? Forty? It only made her look hungrier, the angular face, the puffy dick-sucker lips that seemed perpetually wet and ready.

“Time for you to come back to the fold,” she breathed, kissing his cheek and then moving on, driving her tongue forward and moaning as she pressed her mouth over his in a lewd kiss before pulling away, a strand of saliva connecting them. “You’re a Herron, Jon. You have a job to do! You were born for it, bred for it. It’s your destiny!” She pressed one of her breasts against his mouth, the size of it nearly covering his face, and in the throes of exploring her amazing body he couldn’t help but suck at her nipple, eliciting a moan, pulling a huge amount of flesh into his mouth, biting down, groping her opposite breast with his hand. He felt overwhelmed, confused, powerless to stop. His baser instincts told him to fuck her, breed her, take whatever he wanted from her body. And yet, to do so would be as much as admitting that he had no power over his fate, that he’d been born as a breeding stud, the alpha of alphas. All his work convincing himself, getting out from under his mother and sister, was it really all for nothing?

Jon felt his will fading. Veronica’s tits in his face, her hot, wet pussy sliding up and down his shaft, which was rock hard once again.  _We’re all just animals_ , he felt himself think.  _And god, I want to fuck her like an animal. Breed her._  Maybe he never had control over his life from the start. And the part of him that was interested in sports and school and things other than fucking seemed to be crying out, fading away into the distance.

“You’re our bull, Jon,” Veronica hissed into his ear. “That’s all you are. And you’re going to breed me. Breed me, and my daughters, and my nieces. Your sister and mother too. It’s in your genes, it’s your instinct. That’s what you were planning with that fake birth control. You wanted to breed them both, and you didn’t even know it!”

Jon let out a gasp as she nibbled his earlobe. His arms were around her waist, moving down to grip the cheeks of her thick bubble-butt, pulling them apart, kneading the white flesh, exposing a pink, fuckable asshole that was too wide to be completely obscured by the tiny thong. As she rode high in her straddle for a moment, his cock passed through her legs and she sat back down, allowing it to slide between her ass globes. He pressed them together around his throbbing erection and it was like heaven. His tip emerged and reached lower back, spurting several gouts of hot pre-seed to oil up her rump.

“N-no, I didn’t!” Jon gasped. He could scarcely think, and scrambled for words to explain. “I mean, I did, but… it was - I mean, it was to calm them down, like if sex had consequences, maybe they wouldn’t…. they wouldn’t…”

His voice trailed off, and Veronica smirked at him triumphantly, knowingly. “You’re a breeding stud,” she reiterated, as if sealing the deal. “You can’t help yourself. Just like your mother and sister can’t resist that monster cock of yours.” She reached behind herself and began to stroke it, up and down, milking more pre-cum out over her own oversized ass. Jon seemed to shrink away from her, back into the couch. Was she right? Had he always just been controlled by instinct? Everything, all his plans… just the result of his fucked-up family tree?

But what happened next surprised everyone. Veronica most of all. For Jane Herron pulled back her arm and delivered a slap to Veronica’s face. The report of flesh on flesh resounded throughout the room, and at once everything seemed to run in slow motion. “Stop it, Vee!” she scolded, her face angry. “I won’t let you treat Jon that way.” 

Jon’s mouth dropped open. His mother’s track record for standing up to people on his behalf was almost nonexistent. And yet there she was, green eyes blazing, scowling at her sister with an anger pent-up over twenty years of estrangement. Veronica’s eyes were also blazing, her cheek red from the blow. She began to bluster. “Janey, how  _dare_  you-”

“No, how dare YOU!” Jane cried, standing up from the couch, her naked, gorgeous body, amazonian in musculature and barbie-like in voluptuousness, presenting a powerful image, greased up with cum, sweat and her own arousal. She pointed a manicured finger at Veronica. “Who do you think you’re talking to? That’s my  _son_! He’s smart! He’s talented! And he can be whatever he wants to be!”

“Yeah!” piped up Jen, in a none-too-alert voice that indicated she might not know exactly what was going on. “Fuckin’ A! My little bro is a huge dork, but he’s not just some weird circus act.”

“Everything you said about Jon is true,” Jane went on. “He’s a fucking  _stud_. He has a massive cock. His big balls are totally stuffed with cum. And yes, I am a slutty, size-queen bimbo bitch! So is my daughter. We’re just a couple of sluts who need their wet fucking pussies  _pounded_. That’s why we get our nails done, our hair done, why we work out every day, why our makeup is always perfect, why we buy the most revealing clothes. Because we love getting  _fucked_. And maybe in the end I couldn’t resist him. But I tried, Vee. I tried to let him learn and grow and go his own way. Just like his father did.”

Jane moved closer to her sister and looked her square in the eye. The gaze between them was electric, filled with rivalry and loss and resentment, and twenty years in the making. “It’s not up to destiny, Vee.” She placed her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “It’s up to Jon.”

Jon’s mind crystallized on those words. 

_It’s up to Jon._

For the first time in a long time, he and his mother shared a look of gratitude and appreciation. All the fucking, all the wet sounds of coitus coming through the heating ducts, all the missed appointments and strange trysts with friends and groundskeepers and teachers… she hadn’t been able to help it. She had been trying to scratch an itch that only  _he_  could scratch, and had managed to last seventeen years before giving in. In her own strange way, she had done all that fucking for him, to give him a chance to go his own way.

Veronica was looking cowed, and Jon swelled with confidence. Now,  _she_  seemed to be shrinking away from  _him_. The look on her face, the uncertain, submissive look, made his cock even harder, if that were possible.  “Now,” Jane said, standing next to the two of them as they embraced on the couch. “If you want something from Jon,” she said, importantly, “you don’t  _tell_  him he has to do it. You  _ask_  him for it.

Veronica looked hesitant, and then met Jon eye to eye. There were tears welling in the corners of hers, and when she spoke, her tone had none of the confidence it had carried previously. Her attempts to bulldoze him had failed. Now all that was left was to plead.

In the silence of the living room, with cum splattered on the floor and all of them naked as jaybirds, she made her request.

Jon considered for perhaps fifteen seconds, and then he answered her. “Alright,” he said. “But I’m going to do it my way.”  
   
One minute later, Veronica made a phone call. 

Two minutes after  _that_ , she ascended the stairs to the master bedroom, along with Jon, Jane, and Jen. There was business to be done.


	5. The Strange Life Of Jon Herron

There was something symbolic Jon wanted to do, and all three women were unspeakably eager to oblige him. The king-sized bed would be the setting, the same bed where his mother and sister had tried to seduce him those many weeks before. All three women climbed on, side by side, lay on their backs, pulling their legs up and wide, displaying their sopping pink pussies. His sister on the left. His mother on the right. And Veronica in the middle. Jen discarded her hat, Veronica tossed aside the soaking rag of her thong. Jon, also naked, beheld them with satisfaction. His cock was jutting outward at a 45 degree angle, diamond-hard, the urethral bulge along the underside as thick as a thumb. There was no way to describe the looks on the faces of the females, except to say they were in  _heat_.   
  
Veronica’s huge, milky-skinned breasts fell nearly to the bedsheets, one down each side of her torso, and in the valley between them she made smoldering eye contact with him, licking dick-sucker lips that seemed more moist and inviting than ever. Though she had less muscular definition than his fitness-crazed family, she made up for it with sheer volume on a frame that was still petite in the right places. Her spread thighs were flawless expanses of alabaster flesh, darkening to a blushing pink nearer her delta, where her thick labia were engorged and aroused. Her fat MILF asscheeks bulged with inviting thickness as she pulled her legs back, two overstuffed ivory crescents that seemed made to bounce off of a dick. As her eyes begged him, her red hair fell behind her head in a crimson wreath.   
  
Jen was in much the same position, though her body was more streamlined, and when she stared at Jon with lewd intent, she did so over the ribbed texture of her own caramel-toned abs. She was sweat-soaked, greased up with cum and her own lube, her body glistening and reflecting the glare of the overhead lights. She was the blue-eyed one, the bleached blonde, the barbie bitch, and like her aunt she had a pair of duck-faced dicksucker lips just perfect for slurping cock. It was almost sinful how perfect a bimbo slut she was, without even having to try. It came naturally to her. The gravity-defying tits with the bubble-gum pink nipples contrasting against her tan, the flawless, cut waist, the solid thighs and legs that seemed to go on forever. Her tongue also seemed to have no end to it and snaked out of her mouth to lick around, cum-thirsty, her aquamarine jewel eyes were at once hypnotized and hypnotizing. And of course her pussy was totally shaved, utterly soaked, with a silver clit piercing shining to compliment the barbells in her nipples. Her eye makeup was smoky and her eyelashes extended to the limits of artifice and mascara. Never before in human history had a woman looked so ready to be utterly  _wrecked_  by cock.  
  
As slutty as Jen and Veronica appeared in their pussy-exposing poses, Jane was perhaps the most enticing. She bit her bottom lip in an unconscious gesture of need that Jon had come to recognize. A study in perfect genetics, surpassing even her daughter, who was too lazy to do all of the working out required to hit the apex of bimbo sluttiness. Her neck and waist, wrists and ankles, calves and biceps were all tight and graceful, alternating between supple, defined muscle and ballerina waifishness as appropriate. Her nose, ears, fingers and toes, all tiny and austere, and those high cheekbones above all else, gorgeous peaks that any actress would kill for. Her deep tan and the sweat oiling her skin made everything stand out and sparkle. Yet out of nowhere, when required, her body seemed to explode into excess. Her huge, seemingly weightless tits hung like balloons on her chest, with absolutely no hint of sag, perfect spheres that Jon had always assumed were surgical, but now suspected were natural, a trait of the Herron family seen here in it’s finest form. Her ass was a perfect bubble-butt that erupted from the base of her lower back in a pair of jiggling, clapping half-moons before cutting just as abruptly back into a muscled thigh. And despite the rest of her face being fit for a queen, her lips were puffed, perpetually wet inner-tube-thick ball drainers. Her 38 years of age had taken nothing away from her in any area; if anything, they made her more defined, more honed, more perfected in her countenance, her makeup, her curves and musculature. Her pussy was  _soaked_ , a wet pink scythe blade that already dripping with arousal. And now her pleading eyes betrayed her need for a harsh breeding from her donkey-dick son. That much was very, very clear.  
  
They were lined up, just as Veronica and Jane, the sisters, had presented themselves for Jon’s father those many years ago, when they made a competition of being the first choice, sowing the seeds for an estrangement that had lasted two decades. But Jon had other plans; he had no intention of repeating that mistake. This was his first decision as the true man of the house. Thus he walked to the edge of the bed, a lean and athletic teen boy with white teeth and a brown messy-styled crew cut, and slid onto the covers with them.  
  
“I’m not going to choose,” he said, sliding onto his back between Veronica and Jane, putting his hands behind his head. His cock was jutting straight up like a spike. He grinned, letting them know this wasn’t some referendum on their import to him, but something less structures, if no less intense. “It’s first come, first served!”  
  
There was a moment of comprehension, and then they all scrambled to straddle him, and it was Veronica, perhaps by virtue of her great horniness and the space-occupying properties of her enormous MILF ass, that managed to swing a hip over him first. Her breasts pressed against his chest, face and neck as she moved her hips forward to poise her hot, wet pussy against the tip of his cock.  
  
“Aww, no fair!” Jen complained, having been butt-bumped aside and now laying on her hip.  
  
“You always were an opportunist, Vee,” Jane lamented, sliding up against Jon’s hip, bracketing him with Jen on the other side and reaching across his thigh to squeeze one of his churning, cum-loaded balls. The act seemed to turn her on even more.  
  
Jon reached up to Veronica’s face and rubbed her lips with his thumb, feeling their plumpness, before sliding the digit into her mouth, where she began to suck it like a cock. At the same time, she began to slide her pussy down and take in his girth, inch by inch. The wetness, tightness and heat were astounding, and they both moaned. Her needy cunt was gradually speared by the biggest, longest cock she’d had in twenty years, and the lewd sound of wetness as she slid down the pole was heard by all.   
  
“Fuck, listen to it stretching her out!” Jen moaned, fingering herself. Utterly lost in the moment, she craned her neck forward and began to suck on one of Veronica’s huge, puffy nipples, making lewd blowjob noises and slurping the raised, fat areola as if it were a short, wide cock, drawing more noises from her aunt.   
   
Jane shifted around to Jon’s legs, watching the penetration as it occurred, and reared back to give Veronica’s thick ass a slap before groping the flesh with her manicured hands. “You always were such a big-assed _slut_ ,” she moaned, leaning forward to lick and kiss the milky flesh of her own sister. “Take my son’s dick, you fucking whore!”  
  
Jon pressed his hand into Veronica’s free breast and pushed her more upright, forcing more of her body weight onto his cock, her pussy forming a tight, hot seal around his wrist-thick shaft as more than a foot of meat speared into her guts, causing her to gasp and look at him intensely. She placed her hands against her lower abdomen like a woman who had just learned she was pregnant, unable to process the sensations. She could feel it drilling into her, moving her, twisting her fuck-tunnel into new shapes. His prick-helmet battered against her cervix, driving past that, tenting her fertile, grasping womb into a mushroom cap shape. A brutal, soul crushing orgasm ripped through her body, and she didn’t just cry but  _howled_. When it subsided, she was sitting on his base, every inch inside her, her spread labia pressed against the his pubis. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she looked down at her own smooth, white midsection to see a subtle cock-shaped bulge running up the middle. She felt impaled, suspended by it, and her face broke into an expression of euphoric happiness. Gathering her breasts in two hands, she sat down even harder on Jon’s dick and pressed her boobs together against the bulge, as if trying to titfuck the dick that was already inside her, her hands unable to even fully cover her own nipples, flesh pouring out at every angle. She began to bounce up and down.  
  
“Yes,” she moaned, her throat hoarse and quiet and sultry. “Fuck me! From now on, you can fuck my tits any time you want, Jon. No matter what I’m doing, just grab me by the throat and tell me to kneel and press my tits together so you can fuck them like a  _pussy_ \- nnnnnnnnuuugh!”  
  
Her words turned to a cry as Jane and Jen groped her ass and spread her cheeks wide, entwining their long, pink tongues at the rim of her asshole, licking around it, teasing her. “You still like this, don’t you?” Jane said. “Remember when we used to eat each other out for daddy? We can do it for Jon, too.” She pulled back and gave a wet kiss to one of Veronica’s huge asscheeks. “Would you like that Jon?” she asked. “Watching slutty bimbo bitches eating each other’s  _cunts_ while they wait for your fat cock?”  
  
Veronica was beginning to bounce up and down, riding him, sliding her wet inner channel up and down his monstrous shaft. There was a light slap of flesh every time her buttocks bounced on his thighs that was intensifying as her motions became more and more intense. “ _Whatever_  I like, you’ll do it,” he replied, his voice breathy with exertion. “You’ll wear what I like, act how I like. That’s the deal.” His hands gripped Veronica by the thighs, and he began to thrust a little on his own, driving up into her sopping wet cunt, loving the sensation, knowing he couldn’t last forever in this pussy, a pussy that seemed custom-made to take dick, wanting to make each second count. “I want you in pencil skirts and tight blouses, mom, or your fitness stuff. And for Aunt Veronica, no clothes that fit. Every shirt, top, bikini, whatever, you buy at least two sizes too small. I want those huge tits and your fat ass  _ripping_  through your clothes.”  
  
“Y-yes, Jon!” Veronica cried, throwing her head back. “Make me your personal big-titted bitch! Knock me up and fucking milk me like a cow if you want, as long as you never… stop… fucking me!” She had another quaking orgasm, gasping and not forming words but only making inarticulate noises of pleasure, and Jon knew his own climax was close when thirty seconds of hard fucking later, his mother lay next to his ear, nibbled the lobe, and whispered to him, breathy and hot and just audible over the syrupy slaps of his penetration.  
  
“You can dress  _me_  up however you like, baby,” Jane hissed. “I’ll be your barbie doll. It’s what my body has been built for, since you were born. Dress me up and pose me. I’ll kneel in a skirt by your bed, Jon, flashing my pussy like a stripper, with my mouth open and my lips glossed, and just wait for you to wake up so you can shove your cock down my throat.” As if to prove the point, she slid four of her fingers into her mouth, fucking her own face lewdly, drooling a little but clearly nearly able to swallow her entire hand, sucking and hollowing out her cheeks and extending her lips to form a long, nasty blowjob expression, before pulling her hands back. “These bimbo lips were made to suck your big, long  _dong_. My body was made to take every inch. Whatever you want, Jon. Whatever you want, and whatever you say.” Her gaze was a mixture of familial love and whorish, nasty lust. And when he groaned and began to cum inside Veronica, she sealed her mouth over his and shared a most unmotherly kiss.  
  
“Uuuuggggh! I can feel it!” Veronica moaned as Jon’s sperm exploded into her womb, instantly filling it, distending it. “Knock me up! But a baby in your aunt’s belly! I can feel your sperm wiggling!” Dozens of wet, splattery spurts of his jizz poured into her as she continued to ride him, leaning back, looking down her own flat, smooth, porcelain-white midsection as her tits bounced and flopped like massive sacks of milk, watching as if to see and imagine the moment of conception inside her her spasming, cum-thirsty oviducts. “Fuuuuck! Janey! He’s spewing so deep into my fucking cunt!” Her hands waved wildly for a moment until she found her sister’s grasp and held it tight. Her body bounced, clapped, and jiggled, her pristine flesh’s lewd abundance making the scene nasty and freakish. When she could take no more, she collapsed forward onto him, her breasts compressing against his body, her hair a sweaty, fiery mess about their faces. With a watery splattering sound, Jon’s cum overflowed the seal her thick pussy lips made on his shaft and bubbled down over his balls and to the covers in a messy, explosive flood.  
  
The four of them lay in a sweaty, gasping mess for a minute or more, basking in what had been done, Jon’s cock softening a little. He gently ushered Veronica off of him, she had had at least three orgasms and looked dazed and sated, crawling shortly away into her sister’s arms, keeping her thighs pressed together, speaking to her while embraced. “God, it’s such a huge fucking load! I’m pregnant for sure. I can feel it inside me, tingling! His stud sperm are fucking gang-raping my eggs.” Far-fetched as it sounded, one could see in her eyes that she believed it. There was a gurgling sound from within her womb and she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling lights, her eyes unblinking. She made another moan of release, her knees fell apart, and an absolutely enormous creampie  _poured_  out of her pussy. It would not be correct to say it trickled or even spurted, for there was so much sperm, and it was so thick, that it simply poured from her stretched, fucked-out channel in a wave, covering her asshole and the insides of her buttocks, gathering on the bed in a pudding-like pile.  
   
Never before had a woman looked so completely  _bred_. Veronica was breathing hard, her body glistening with sweat, strands of her crimson hair clinging to her face, staring at the ceiling. On her back, with her legs bent at the knees and spread, every detail of her well-fucked pussy was visible, and the amount of semen was such that the constant outflow spread her engorged labia much like a cock would. Veronica looked like she’d just finished a gangbang with a hundred men. All she could do, it seemed, was hold her sister’s hand and stare at the ceiling.  
  
“What about me, bro?” Jen piped up, poking Jon’s muscled bicep and licking her lips suggestively, accentuating her tongue piercing. “What are you gonna make me wear, huh?” Her voice made it clear she was, in some way, excited by the prospect, and enjoying the playfulness such an interaction might bring.  
  
Jon grinned savagely, and rolled over to face Jen to their noses were almost touching. “You know,” he replied, “I’ve thought about that. And I can’t really imagine you in ‘normal’ clothes, Jen. You’re such a fucking  _slut_.”  
  
She cooed and rubbed her thighs together. “Oh yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” he went on, sliding a hand over her waist and cupping one of her perfectly-round asscheeks. “Even mom toned it down and let her body do the talking under her workout clothes and dresses and suits. But you’ve never cared, have you? That’s why you’ve got that stud in your tongue, why you wear a flat-brim with “SLUT” written on the crown and tights so low-cut and sheer every swinging dick in town can see you you have a pierced, shaved pussy. Every skanky outfit you’ve ever seen in a rap video you’ve worn at least once.”  
  
Jen bit her lower lip and nodded, raising her hands to rub Jon’s neck.  
  
“You don’t need to change a thing, Jen,” he finished, smiling mischievously. “I can’t imagine you any other way.” He paused. “Well, with one exception.”  
  
“Yes?” she said, expectantly.  
  
“I want you to get a tattoo for me. My name. ‘Jon’. And,” he said, sliding his body against hers and allowing his hardening cock to move against her skin, pressing it between them, until the throbbing crown rested near the bottom of her breasts, leaving a weal of wet pre-cum against her abdominal muscles. “I want you to get it right… here. To show how deep my cock goes inside you.”  
  
“Pffft, that’s it? Whatever, loser, I’ll do it,” she groaned, sliding a hand between their bodies to caress his cock. “Nnnngh, fuck… I love this fuckin’ cum cannon of yours!” Jon was an athletic young man, and though his mother and sister worked out for the purposes of honing their bodies to a razor’s edge, they weren’t conventionally athletic, lacking the explosive power and fast-twitch muscle fibers such actions would require. Thus, he was cat-quick and unstoppable when he grabbed Jen’s hip, forced her face-down onto the mattress, and scrambled on top of her, pressing a forearm down onto the back of her neck. She squealed a delighted moan into the covers as he straddled her, his long cock laying atop her back, spanning the entire length of her upper body.  
  
“This is how I like you best, Jen,” he growled. “On your face with your mouth shut.”  
  
“Then come on, dork,” she called back up to him, partially muffled by the bedspread, “I want that big donkey dick!”  
  
Keeping her face pressed into the bed, Jon slid a hand under her waist, encircling it, pulling it upward so she was kneeling, and pulled her thighs apart. It left Jen in the position where Jon liked her best - face down, ass up, and she used the opportunity to twerk sluttily even as he was leaned over her, bouncing her ass rhythmically. He could feel the warmth and fullness of her ass as it slid against his abs. The legendary Jen Herron badonkadonk, the butt that had, amongst his friends and fellow teens, launched a thousand hardons. Lifting his prick, now fully hard, into the crack of her ass, he sawed it back and forth, using her body to give a buttjob, squeezing her cheeks together around his girth and drawing moans.  
  
“You don’t have a shit about any of this, do you? All this Herron family stuff?” he said, continuing to plow her ass crack, getting his shaft wet with her sweat and the lubrication of her steaming, sopping pussy. “You just want to get fucked by my big cock!”  
  
“Just fuck me! I don’t even remember what anyone was talking about,” she called back, defiantly. “I was high as shit!”  
  
Jon reared back and gave her right cheek a spanking, leaving a palm print, causing her amazing ass to bounce and jiggle all the more. “You fuckin’ skank, you’ll never change!” he cried, and Jen moaned into the bedsheets, bracing herself with two splayed hands. Jon saw that her long fingernails were painted glitter pink with small white letters, L-O-V-E on the left hand. C-O-C-K on the right. Typical. He felt a smile come to his face. Veronica had made the Herron family heritage seem like a solemn duty, a great weight that would be put on his shoulders. To him it was overwhelming in some ways, but Jen had learned about it the exact same time that he had, and couldn’t have given less of a fuck. She just wanted to suck his big cock and sleep until noon. Maybe she could learn to be a little more responsible, he reasoned, but he could also learn from her, about how to take it easy, and how not to get too stressed about all this new and strange information. In that moment, he appreciated her for what she was. A no-strings-attached, party-all-the-time fuck machine.  
  
“Come on, loser! Pound my pussy while you slap my ass!” she moaned, raising and dropping her hips to stroke his shaft with her pussy. By now, the term ‘loser’ almost seemed like one of endearment. Jon didn’t need to be asked twice, and pulled his smooth, muscle-marbled pelvis back so he could place his cockhead at her entrance. She arched her back like a minx, accentuating her ass, giving him the best view possible.  
  
Taking a breath, he slid inside. It was a vise-like grip, her textured, sopping walls seeming to hug his cock as he pressed forward. He could feel every hot, wet, superheated bump, and it drew a moan from his lips. His hands gripped her ass as her was halfway inside her, groping, kneading, squeezing.  
  
“Nnnngh, you love my  _big bubble butt_ , don’t you, bro?” Jen gasped into the mattress. “Well, I love those huge fucking cum-factories of yours! Bang those fat balls off my clit! Gawd, they must have a gallon of cream inside!” She wiggled her hips and pressed back against him, urging him on, and her “Size Queen” tramp stamp never seemed more appropriate. He pressed forward, driving deeper, his entire length nearly disappeared into her soaked, molten box. He spanked her, drawing moans, again and again, watching her ass bounce with each impact. Each time he withdrew, her pussy seemed to cling to his shaft like a glove, a perfect bubblegum pink sleeve that prolapsed slightly from the tightness of the grip and his arm-thick girth. He grabbed her hips and used his weight to shove forward some seconds later, feeling himself drive past any physical obstructions of her body, feeling her pussy lips pressing against the base of his cock. All eighteen inches were inside her, again demonstrating that Herron women were built to take monster cocks in the same way sports cars were made to go fast.  
  
“Holy shiiiiit!” Jen moaned, grabbing handfuls of the coverlet. “It feels like it’s up in my fuckin’ stomach!”   
  
Jon gripped her hips even more fiercely and began to drive his cock in and out, pulling back six inches or so and then burying himself balls-deep, enough space to generate the force needed to give his stacked, slutty bimbo sister a good and thorough fucking. His balls slapped and mashed against her pierced clit with each thrust, matching the sound of her round, full buttocks bouncing off his abdomen. It was a sight that he would never tire of, her sexualized body in motion, her pair of big butt-globes crashing and jiggling. He would up and spanked her again and started to pick up speed. Going from one thrust each second to two, drawing breathy moans (and bursts of profanity) from her mouth in equal tempo. Annoying as she could be, Jen had an amazing pussy, and she was taking every inch of his long, rock-hard prick  _deep_  into her guts, moaning all the while, cumming, writhing her head from side to side in the bleached starburst of her hair against the coverlet,  _begging_  for more.  
  
Veronica and Jane watched with unvarnished arousal as he fucked her for perhaps five minutes at this pace, drawing an orgasmic cry at multiple points, and then Jon sped up again to three thrusts a second. The room filled with nothing but the sounds of ass-clapping and ball-slapping, punctuated by Jen’s animalistic moans. She begged for his cum, squealed at his spankings, and did her best to drive her pussy back into his crotch to make the penetration even more complete and lewd. Lube and pre-cum combined to form gooey bridges between his abs and her ass every time he withdrew even a little, and the milking, churning sounds from within her pussy conjured images of wet, textured, pink fuck-tunnels wrapped condom-tight around massive dicks. Jon was on his feet, driving down into her at an angle, spearing her depths, wringing every bit of sensation he could out of his sibling fuck machine.   
  
He started to cum while he was still thrusting, immediately flooding her insides, filling her womb in less than five powerful, hose-like blasts of semen, then churning up the excess with his movements, still spurting while he pounded away, sending gouts of hot, white, thick semen splattering down over the bed. His teeth were gritted, and he hissed one word to himself amidst the cacophony of orgasmic noises and the delighted, cum-drunk cries of Jen and the other women -  _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ \- before gasping and pulling his cock all the way out, standing over Jen, jacking it while he poured the second half of his huge cum load onto her ass.   
  
Rope after rope of thick, steamy sperm coated her butt, the whiteness contrasting with her deep tan, and then he shot two more streams onto her back and the lean and enticing muscle there, before using his opposite hand to to turn her over, jerking his cock as he stood over her, erupting onto her tits as his balls emptied the last of their thick, potent contents, splattering them with huge dollops of cum, an act that seemed to drive her to further depths of rut. For the final volley, he stroked and milked his dick while standing over her beautiful, bee-stung-lipped, blue-eyed face, which looked up at him with fierce lusty coquettishness, seeming to beg for a fucking load.  
  
“Do it!” she purred. “Cum on my fucking face!”  
  
Jon slid his tight fist all the way down his shaft, towards the head, gathering all the sperm that was left in his heavy piss-pipe, pumping the nastiest, thickest, chunkiest rope of cum yet directly onto Jen’s forehead, nose, right eye, and lips, a bubbly stripe that was an inch wide and thick as tapioca pudding. She mewled, her long-lashed eye glued shut, and rubbed the cum on her tits into her body, greasing herself up with his seed, and extended her tongue to lick and suck at the thick cum-strand that had been pumped out to splatter on her perfect white teeth. Her chest heaved with desperate breaths, and Jon tried to control his own breathing as he let his cock fall and swing like a pendulum before coming to rest. She really was a cum-addicted bimbo slut, and he had utterly covered her. Her body was crisscrossed with ropes of seed and a thick, heavy creampie was pouring out of her pussy.  
  
“Mmm, fuck… you can empty your balls into me any old time, bro,” she sighed, shutting her eyes, her body undulating with gradually receding breaths. Having been thoroughly fucked by the biggest cock she could find, Jen Herron had no care in the world. Let Jon and the rest of them figure out the new family dynamic, she reasoned. She, after a shower, planned to be busy eating a bowl of Fruit Loops and watching Real Housewives Of Atlanta.  
  
The room had grown hot, the sheets were a rumpled mess, and Jon found himself standing on the bed, looking down at the only woman he hadn’t yet fucked - his mother. That she’d been saved for last was not lost on either of them, she’d been the most passive, perhaps content to wait, wanting to serve as the main course after the appetizers of her daughter and sister. Now, she lay on her hip between them like a concubine, looking up at Jon as he looked back. After a moment, wordlessly, she shifted to the very center of the bed, roughly equidistant between the fucked-out bodies of Jen and Veronica. Pulling her legs back and tucking them under her armpits with a dancer’s flexibility, knees bent, the soles of her feet up in the air on either side of her head, she reached forward and placed her hands on her thighs, presenting her pussy to her son. It was a wet, raised mound that seemed to protrude outward from the lean, sinewy muscle of her abs and inner thighs.   
  
Using her fingers, she spread herself as wide as she could, showing Jon her bright pink inner folds, the fat nub of her clit and her winking pisshole right below it, the spasming mouth of her vaginal canal, all laid bare as she immodestly spread herself. Her sweat-oiled abs were like armor, leading up to the her enormous bimbo breasts that bounced between her arms, showing nipples as starkly pink as her pussy and painfully erect. She made a duck face and lewdly licked her puffed up lips, sending Jon the message that she was a bimbo slut and she knew it, loved it, every second spent exercising and every dollar spent on cosmetics was worth it just to be a big-titted bimbo  _bitch_  for his fucking huge cock. And now, she was a bimbo bitch who wanted to be  _bred_.  
  
There was a weight in the air as he slid into position and poised his huge cock-knob against her sex, a solemn knowledge that generations had conspired to bring the forthcoming moment to light, generations defined not just by repetition but change. Jon’s father James had been the first male to leave Herron County, the only among seven brothers to dare, and Jon intended to follow his example, not to succumb to the appetites of his heritage, but to direct them.  
  
“Don’t pull out,” his mother whispered to him in the silent, sweat-wafting air. “Make sure I’m good and pregnant!”  
  
He slid into her and it was like a sleeve of molten flesh, immediately drawing a groan from them both. There was no need to be gradual, no need to tease. If anyone could take a huge cock, it was his mother. Her wet, thirsty box made his monstrous length disappear as easily as her ancestor Verna had swallowed swords, and they exhaled in tandem as their bodies locked together. He was on his knees, and his thighs were on either side of her hips, locking her legs up near head, burying himself inside her in an intense, cunt-stretching mating press. He did no thrusting, made no movement but to push himself as deep as he could. His driving cock split her clinging labia as a drop of water creates expanding ripples in a pond, filling her until they gripped his girthy base. It was only when he was almost fully inside that his chest pressed against her bulbous tits, his sweat intermingling with hers. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head into the crook of her shoulder, kissing his hair. “It’s so fucking huge!” she moaned, running her hands over his muscled back. “I’m so proud of you, Jon!” In her ecstasy, her nails scratched at his back, but neither one of them noticed.   
  
Jon, eyes shut, concentrated on experiencing every nuance of her hot, wet insides. He had often admired her exterior and her single-minded determination to have the bustiest, sluttiest body possible, it was no surprise that she was just as perfect when it came to milking the hardons her bouncing bubble-butt had helped create. It was so tight and wet, it was like her womb was  _sucking_  his dick. And then, when she began to move, he made a choked gasp of surprise.  
  
As she made a subtle motion like a viper devouring prey, he felt her pelvic area contract and shift, milking his shaft upward and inward with a toe-curling pressure that he’d never experienced. In his youthful explorations he’d found weird things in her room that he’d later come to suspect were sex toys, but he did not realize that Jane Herron had used them to train her pubococcygeus muscle diligently, and with the same intensity that she’s given to squatting and leg-lifts. As a result, her pussy’s gripping power and agility was unmatched. She was massaging him with her insides, and it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  
  
 _No wonder she was dad’s favorite_ , he thought absurdly, as the last edges of his control began to fade. He’d meant to take his time, but it was no use. No male could resist a Herron woman in heat, and even after two powerful orgasms, he could feel yet more virile sperm boiling in his balls as they lay, bulging, against the perfect hemispheres of his mother’s ass. He had once wondered what do with all the seed he seemed capable of producing, but now, in the midst of his third breeding session in a row, he wondered if he’d have enough.  
  
“M-mom, if you keep doing that, I’ll-”  
  
“Do it!” she hissed fiercely, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Fill me up! Use that monster stud cock and make my belly big with your baby! Just like your father did!”  
  
Jon grunted and pressed in further, exhaling sharply as what felt like a tidal wave of semen rushed out of his spasming, dilating pisshole. His cock was jammed as deep as it could go, crushed into the back of her womb, and when he finally popped, it came in a near-constant stream that flooded her instantly and filled every bit of her womb that wasn’t already occupied by his cockhead, a splattery, lumpy expulsion of sperm that forever marked her deepest, most needy reaches as his breeding ground. Her grip on him became desperate, and as he emptied his balls deep into her pussy her tight, milking twat spasmed on his rod and helped draw out even the last dregs of semen in his balls. He had shot a single, thick outpouring of cum for perhaps fifteen uninterrupted seconds, and her cries of orgasmic bliss had lasted almost twice as long. Her body had bucked like a wildcat, held in place only by his greater weight.  
  
As he collapsed onto her and they embraced, a squelching sound accompanied the escape of excess cum from the super-tight seal of her pussy on his shaft, and as with the other two wanton women it piled and made quite a mess on the bed sheets. But Jon did not pull out, instead keeping his cock inside his mother, plugging her up, giving the full volume of his ejaculation time to do its work. Instead, he shifted their bodies so they each lay on one hip, still coupled.   
  
In the following five minutes, Veronica slid over next to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, turning the embrace into a three-way affair. She kissed his back lightly, putting her cheek against it and settling in. When Jen lazily crawled over and embraced her mother on the opposite side, they became four. That was how they lay for half an hour, breathing silently, dozing in the afterglow. All three women were totally filled with cum, their perfect bodies covered in sweat and semen, their pussies (except where stuffed with cock) lewdly spewing out huge, indecent creampies.  
  
They all had smiles on their faces.   
   
Jon learned this minutes later by raising his head and observing as they rested. He looked over to his mother’s oversized vanity mirror on the far wall, and saw a young man looking back, lying in the middle of a three well-fucked, gorgeous women. His strange upbringing, hiding his cock for years, resisting the affections of his sister and mother, and the revelations about his family… he’d made it. He hadn’t vanished into the introversion of body shame or the strangeness of his family tree, he had made it out the other side, and his destiny was his own.   
  
Jon allowed himself a smile, his first truly carefree smile in years. Then, he lay back down in the nest of flesh he’d created and listened to the soft breathing of his contents.  
  
It was two hours later when a parade of pickup trucks arrived. Veronica’s phone call had been to the local Motel 6, telling the rest of the Herron family that the plan was going forward.\

 

* * *

  
  
Eight months later, still three months shy of Jon’s 18th birthday, he sat reclining on the same leather couch where the revelations about his past had been delivered to him. He was totally nude, his heavy, smooth balls hanging over the cushion edge and his cock jutting powerfully upward, enjoying the pressurized sensation of two tanned, pregnant bellies rubbing up and down his cock. One belonged to his mother and one to his sister. Each one was impeccably made up, not a lock of hair nor a dab of makeup out of place. Long stiletto heels spiked from their feet, poking out behind them as they knelt like two bimbo bookends, dressed only in black thongs that served to accentuate their bulging butt cheeks and the enormity of their gravid bellies. Outside of their swollen abdomens, both women were still in almost unnaturally-good shape, as if their genetics permitted no ounce of body fat to flood to any anywhere but their tits and asses, even while pregnant. The smell of perfume, sweat, and female arousal hung in the air as they flexed their asses, lifting themselves up and down, using their baby-stuffed bellies to rub Jon’s shaft and lubricating the action with spit, which they would alternatingly take turns supplying.  
  
The rest of the house was a bustle of activity, sexual and otherwise. No fewer than  _sixteen_  Herron girls had made the trip with Veronica. Their names were Jenna, Janine, Jessica, Joy, Julia, Jacqui, Judith, Janet, Vanessa, Violet, Vera, Virginia, Valerie, Vivian, Vanessa, Victoria, and Valentina. Even after eight months, Jon still mixed them up from time to time. On the day of their arrival they had lined up from oldest to youngest to present themselves to him, all high school aged or in the early years of college, all raised knowing nothing but the desire to fuck and suck the biggest dicks they could find.   
  
Per Jon’s agreement with Veronica, he would be responsible for the breeding.  
  
A few common threads were clear - each girl had an abundance of natural beauty, which they augmented with careful attention to their physiques, clothes, makeup, and hair. Jon’s mother had hinted that Veronica was something of a slave driver, and the discipline she’d drilled into her daughters and nieces was clear. Each morning, all hope of a free bathroom disappeared as false eyelashes were applied, hair was styled, and makeup and slutty clothes were added to complete the ensemble. Most had blonde or copper-colored hair, but there were some deeper redheads, brunettes and raven-haired temptresses sprinkled in. Their breasts ranged in size from large to very  _large_. Jon was astounded to see Violet, a freckled girl just old enough to drive who the others called “Wendy” because of her resemblance to the fast-food. She was peppy and country as a chicken coop, and most notably, had a pair of jugs almost as large as Aunt Veronica. Violet quickly took to wandering about the house in a pair of denim overalls and nothing else, letting her mammoth knockers bulge against the straps. Jon certainly had no complaints about this.  
  
His life thus became a mixture of the mundane and the madcap. He still attended school and expected to graduate with honors, after which he would have his pick of football scholarships from interested programs. When he wished, he could still make time to see friends, take in a movie, or do “normal” teenager stuff. These were important acts of balance for him, offsetting home responsibilities that had become grand in their sexual scope. He had nineteen women in his house. Nineteen unbelievably hot, horny women, and they all wanted a piece of his cock every second that he was home. Unsurprisingly for Herron women, they were adept at getting it. Even less surprisingly, many of the girls had become pregnant in the preceding eight months.  
  
“God, I’m so knocked up!” Jen moaned, biting her pink-painted bottom lip and showing glistening white veneers. “It turns me on so much to think I got filled up by your fucking huge dick!” She leaned in to lazily make out with Jon, sucking his tongue and swapping spit, taking whatever he would give her. When he grabbed her ass, she squealed with delight, and even when he ignored her, she peppered his shoulder, neck and cheek with slutty licks. Her huge belly sported one new tattoo above the navel, a decorative cursive script reading  _Jon_.  
  
The lazy wild-child of the Herron family had even taken the unthinkable (for her) step of giving up weed, though it wasn’t her idea. Aunt Veronica, who had appointed herself to a position as household pregnancy organizer, had literally snatched the bong out of her hand and read her the riot act. Now, though, Veronica was busy in her preferred position, spread-kneed on the ground, her upper body and chin on the couch cushions, sucking and licking Jon’s balls while her own pregnant belly and tits hung nearly to the floorboards. There was nothing the 40-year-old MILF liked better than to worship Jon’s sack, pulling one huge nut into her mouth, caressing it, licking it lewdly with her tongue and slathering it with spit, and that she shared the responsibility with her bevy of nubile daughters and nieces only increased the pleasure.  
  
Jon, after a particularly long day in which he’d fucked all the girls (and plowed Violet’s tits twice, once with Veronica on the opposite side - double the huge breasts, double the fun), had once asked Veronica where the heck his uncles and brothers were, and whether they couldn’t share some of the load. She had just wryly told him that he could read about it in the papers, and it was only after some online searching that the final piece of the puzzle fell into place, the explanation for her traveling so many miles and taking so much risk just to contact him.  
  
“POLICE BUST LARGEST METH LAB IN MISSOURI” the online header had read, and the details were clear enough. Farming hadn’t been paying the bills for the massive Herron family, and so the males had turned to something a little more lucrative… and illegal. Now, he was literally the last free man standing, which did have its benefits.   
   
With his mother and sister giving him a preggo belly-job and his aunt slurping his nuts, Jon looked around the living room and into the adjacent doorways, surveying his kingdom in a way. Vanessa and Janet were fingering each other and making out, having not bothered to take off their high school uniforms… except for their panties of course. Joy was bent over a few feet away, slowly pulling a pair of booty-shorts up over her long legs, winking at Jon and running her tongue over her lip ring. The shorts were black with the letters “SIZE QUEEN” on the back. Virginia was on the loveseat, gazing at Jon’s cock with envy while sliding a massive dildo into her wet, hairless slit.   
  
In general, the house had all the signs of a constant orgy, looking like a sperm bank had exploded. There was cum on the floors, cum strands hanging from lamp shades, hell, there were glistening stains on the  _ceiling_ from explosive, squirting orgasms and creampies that happened at all hours. Later, and at regular intervals, he would ask the girls to clean things up, but in the throes of getting his cock pleasured he didn’t mind the smell of sex. The pools of cum added to the atmosphere of sexual freedom and excess, and reminded him that he didn’t need to throw his seed out the back door in a bucket, not anymore. Now, he could leave it wherever he wanted, and the girls would thank him for it, and lick it up if it was fresh enough. Several had already asked him to cum in their panties so they could wear them to school.  
  
As Jon looked over to the doorway leading to the home gym, he saw Vera was doing squats, the bar locked over her shoulders, lunging down in absolutely sheer workout tights with white running shoes and sports bra that clung to her perfect tits. Vera, with her deep tan, her black pixie cut and her no-nonsense determination. She wasn’t loud like some. She didn’t beg. She just came and looked at him with grey eyes like a brewing storm. Jon liked her the most of all them, though he didn’t say it aloud. And as she finished her set and put the bar down, she grabbed a tape measure and wrapped it around her ass, looking down to check the number. Jon knew without looking that it would be forty inches at  _least_. She held the tape so hard it dug into her flesh, showing what an amazing, overflowing bubble-butt she was sporting, and when flexed her ass, and the tape measure snapped. Jon’s cock twitched, and when their eyes met, she called across the room to him.  
  
“Daddy, looks like my ass is getting  _too_  big,” Vera said, her voice sultry, throwing aside the snapped measuring tape. “You better come over and  _fuck it_  for me.”  
  
Jon gasped out a small breath and cum began to erupt from his cock in a fountain-like arc. His mother and sister grabbed his shaft to direct the flow onto their swollen tits and pregnant bellies. They would be the first to bring their children to term, and took pleasure in baptizing their unborn with cumshots whenever they could. They praised him, kissed him, moaned about how huge his load was and how much they loved it when he busted a nut all over their big, knocked-up bellies. When it was over, he reclined on the couch, still getting his balls sucked, as Vera approached him. Wordlessly, she slowly, achingly stripped down her sheer black workout tights and stuck her ass in his face, preparing to straddle his cock and let him fuck her teenage asshole.  
  
 _This is some strange life_ , Jon thought, watching her place her sweat-lubed pucker over his cockhead.  _But when you take charge of it, it sure isn’t bad._

 

* * *

  
  
Later that night, Vera crept into Jon’s room, which he kept private to avoid a constant run of horny teens, and snuggled up next to him. There, after some whispered, hesitant questions about whether it was okay to talk, she confessed to him that she didn’t want to get pregnant. She wanted to become a personal trainer, and was interested in sports medicine. She wanted to go to college and get her degree. So, she asked, was it possible that they stick to ass-fucking from then on?  
  
Jon smiled and put an arm around her. “Of course,” he said, thinking about the concept of ‘special’ relationships, his mother, his father, and how they dared to want something different. “Vera, you can do whatever you want.”   
  
And even though the two of them were almost the same age, he felt quite father-like when she hugged him tight, and, with tears welling in her eyes, thanked him joyously.


End file.
